


With what we have left

by phisen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 174,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phisen/pseuds/phisen
Summary: Every relationship has an end. This is how fate ended theirs.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at it again, sorry. It became a monster in my head. The assumptions that Victor was sick, the reasons to why his hair was supposedly thinning. It grew and became something I just had to do something with.
> 
> This isn't going to be easy. For me, for you or for Victor and Yuuri. But I hope we can take this journey together, and maybe cry together at the end.

He could watch him for hours. Watch and marvel over how he told stories with his body. Watch as every muscle played a part in painting all those moments, all those pictures. He never grew tired of it. Or of him.

The season was slowly coming to a close. Just Worlds left for them now, two weeks away. Victor had a good feeling. Even though Yuuri still hadn't managed to secure a gold medal in one of the bigger championships, his form was peaking. He was stronger, more together, more focused. The past year had done marvellous things for his self-esteem, and Victor felt confident that it would be Yuuri's turn. He was bringing it home.

As Yuuri skated past him, doing a backward crossover, he realised that he'd never felt so happy and content with his life. Like an anno Yuuri and a before Yuuri existed. Before meeting him, his life had been lonely. Lonely, but full of other things that really didn't matter in the long run. And now, it was the opposite. His life was full, full to the brim, with things that were important. Things that mattered. Things he wanted to experience every day, in countless ways.

"Looking good! I want more tonus, though. Posture! No, not like that. Come!"

Yuuri was quick to skate over to him. They were braiding their fingers together as quickly as they could when they met.

"Yuuri, think more like this," Victor illustrated the feel he wanted. "See? If you lean your head back as you come out of it, like you're longingly looking for something way up there, it looks better. You need to open up your chest a little more." He touched his arms, positioned him in the pose he saw in his mind. "Like so. Okay? And before the jump, you like, melt and become loose."

"You're really nitpicking now, you know?" Yuuri smiled at him and reached for his water bottle.

"It's the small things that make all the difference in the end. I'm your coach, I know these things." He winked at him, cheekily.

Yuuri kissed his hand. His lips were cool and wet after the sip of water.

"Are we done, you think? We could stay all day for all I care, but it would indeed be nitpicking." Victor couldn't really shake the feeling of being a bit tired, so he hoped that Yuuri would oblige.

"Sure. Shall we pick up things for dinner on the way home?"

"Are you cooking?"

"I might."

"Then, it's an aboslute yes!" Victor leaned in and held on to Yuuri's upper arms.

"No, not here." He flushed, as on cue.

"Tsk-tsk. Go change, I'll meet you at the entrance."

* * *

"Shall we shop here?" Yuuri pointed as they were approaching an Azbuka supermarket.

"Mhm, sounds great. What are we having tonight?" He kissed the back of Yuuri's neck swiftly as they walked through the doors.

"Anything you want specifically? And before you do, don't say me this time!"

"Point taken," Victor laughed. "Let's look around some?"

They walked down some aisles, trying to find inspiration for their dinner-to-be. They were slowly narrowing down their options.

"So," Yuuri said, "chicken or soup?"

"You're the one who had practise today. Are you hungry?"

"Very. Chicken it is then?"

"Great. The one with mozzarella and oranges?"

"Oh, I totally forgot about that one! Can you go and find the chicken and I'll go get the other things?"

They separated. Went to complete their own private missions. Victor quickly found the chicken fillets, and went to look for Yuuri. He grabbed a roll of aluminum foil, not sure if they had any at home. As far as he remembered, the chicken was supposed to be wrapped in the foil, together with the mozzarella and some slices of orange, and baked in the oven.

They met again, halfway.

"Mission accomplished?"

Yuuri nodded and presented the shopping basket so Victor could put the chicken in.

As they walked towards the checkout, Victor with his arm around Yuuri's shoulder, Yuuri spoke.

"Are you feeling better now, Victor? They still haven't called?"

Truth be told, he was feeling tired. It was as if the cold he had a couple of weeks ago just wouldn't give in. It annoyed him greatly. So much that he'd seen a doctor the week before, one that Yakov knew personally. He had been involved with several Russian skaters before, and had excellent credentials. The doctor had ordered blood tests and even x-rayed Victor's chest just to rule out a possible pneumonia. Victor was still waiting for the results. He wanted to be done with it, get whatever medication he was prescribed so that he could get his energy back as soon as possible.

"Still nothing, no."

Yuuri paused for a second. He looked up at him, with concern. "But how are you feeling?"

"I'm just a bit tired, Yuuri. That's all." He ruffled his hair a bit. "Probably some infection or the like. Nothing to worry about." _But I love that you do._

* * *

As they came home, Victor went out with Makkachin and Yuuri headed straight for the shower.

He relished the feeling of hot water against his muscles. He suddenly felt a little sting inside. The best thing for aching muscles was, without doubt, a hot spring. He suddenly longed for parents and sister. In Hasetsu. _Once we're done with Worlds, maybe we can go there?_

Yuuri hadn't been to Japan for quite some time. He made a quick head count. It was approximately a year and a half ago, before he had moved to St. Petersburg. He called his parents every once in a while, but it wasn't really the same as seeing them. He decided that he would ask Victor about it at dinner.

He dried himself and got dressed. It was time to make something to eat.

* * *

Victor could tell that there was something on Yuuri's mind. When he was thinking about something, his whole persona changed. He became fidgety, nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"Eh? No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking, when we're done with Worlds, do you think we... do you think we could go to Japan? Together?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course we can go! I would love to see your family again."

Yuuri blushed slightly. "Oh, good. It's just... I would like to see them since it's been such a long time. And... uh... after Worlds, if I win, I... uh..."

Victor reached for Yuuri's hand. As soon as it made contact with his, he put it to his lips.

"Of course. You want to do it there? You've thought about it?"

"Well, we can't do it there officially, but... I would love to include my family in some way. We could have a dinner out or something, you know?"

"We can do a dry run," Victor exclaimed. "Like a dress rehearsal? Get a feel of it before it happens for real?" _And you're still thinking that you have to win gold before it happens? How I love you. You couldn't be more wrong._

Yuuri responded with a beaming smile. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me! Of course we'll go there. Especially for that."

Victor stood up and walked over to Yuuri. Placed himself on his lap, straddling him. He put his hands in his hair, brushing it back slightly as he kissed him. The taste of oranges lingered in his mouth.

"Thank you," Victor breathed. "For dinner." Yuuri's hands rested on his hips. "I'll clear the table," he continued, "and maybe you could get the dog out of the bed? I think it's going to be occupied very soon."

* * *

They decided that Victor would take care of the dishes first. Or, rather, it was Yuuri's decision.

It wasn't too bad of a deal, really. Yuuri kept him company, mostly by hugging him from behind as he stood by the sink. Teasing him on occation, by saying that he'd missed a spot. By touching him in places that weren't involved with the actual deed of washing dishes.

"You have to stop, I can't concentrate," Victor cooed. Not meaning a single word he just said. As Yuuri grew bolder, now stroking the inside of his thigh, Victor had to turn around. He needed to face him and his mouth. Strange how they just had food and drinks, but he still felt a hunger.

The glass shattered against the floor as Victor dropped it.

"Shit!"

"No! No, no, no, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Victor!"

"Don't say you're sorry," Victor said as he trailed Yuuri's lips with his own. "I enjoyed myself."

Yuuri's cheeks grew slightly red. "I'll help you, watch out for the shards. I'll get the hoover if you can collect the bigger ones."

They looked at each other, hugged once more and smiled with the hopes of continuing what they started.

* * *

The mood never waned. As soon as the glass was disposed of, they were quick to find each other again. Resuming the touching from before. Fighting with their clothes to gain access to naked skin. Wanting to celebrate, to taste and to experience a closeness that was theirs and theirs alone.

The ambition to reach the mutual goal pushed them onwards. Onwards until they succeeded, together.

* * *

Victor woke up with a jerk. His phone was ringing, but not in the bedroom. He hurriedly jumped out of bed and headed towards the sound. When he found the phone, in the kitchen next to the dishrack, he didn't recognise the number. He decided to answer anyway.

"This is Victor."

"Hello Victor, it's Dr. Kudryavtsev. Did I wake you?"

"Hello, doctor. Yes, you could say that."

"I'm sorry. I'm calling to tell you that we have the results of your bloodwork and x-rays now and I would like to meet with you to discuss them. Can you come to the clinic, you think?"

"Come in? Sure, but why?"

"It's standard procedure."

"Um, okay." Victor sifted his hand through his hair. It felt messy. "At what time?"

"Maybe in an hour, if it's possible for you?"

"In two hours, would that be okay?"

"Absolutely. See you in two hours."

"Yes, thank you. Bye."

"Bye, Victor."

Victor hung up. Not knowing that in two hours time, his life would change forever.

* * *

"Victor?" Dr. Kudryavtsev extended his hand. "Nice to see you again. Come, follow me."

They walked in silence. Victor following the physician like a shadow. After a short walk through the hallway, the doctor stopped and opened the door to his office.

"I took the liberty of inviting a colleague, Victor. He's going to talk to you too."

_Strange. His voice sounds strained. Not like before._

Victor entered, saw another man dressed in a long white coat. They shook hands as he presented himself as Dr. Popyrin. The two doctors sat down and Victor did the same after taking off his coat and folded it over the armrest.

"So," Kudryavtsev said, "we've been looking over your test results. Luckily, no infection or pneumonia. However, I..."

Victor's heart started to beat harder inside of him. He didn't like the hesitation in the physician's voice, nor how he compulsively wanted to look at a sheet of paper instead of keeping eye contact.

Kudryavtsev cleared his throat. "However, I must inform you that we've found something else. Which is good. We caught it early and it must be treated as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry," Victor said with a slight hesitation, "but what do you mean?"

Kudryavtsev finally looked him in the eye. His light blue eyes were vibrating, and he was swallowing again and again.

"It's never pleasant, having talks like this," the doctor sighed, "but I'm so sorry to tell you that we've found an anomaly in your left lung, Victor. We're pretty sure it's cancer."


	2. Year One: Spring, part one

The world stopped, right in its tracks. At first, he thought he must have misheard him. Surely, that was the case. Seeing his somber face made him uncertain. _Is this really happening?_

"I'm sorry?" They were the only words he could produce.

"I'm sorry, Victor," Kudryavtsev said. "Mikhail, if you please?"

"I'm going to talk about what we're planning for you. I understand it might be hard, even impossible to understand this right now, but... please ask if there's something you don't comprehend."

"Then..." Kudryavtsev stood up. Before he left, he put a hand on Victor's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

The silence spread out between them. It was like a darkness slowly took ownership of the sunlit room. Devouring it, like a black hole consumes a sun.

"What does this mean?" He was surprised that his voice sounded steady. It wasn't conveying what he felt inside. Not at all.

"To be honest, we don't know yet. All we know is that it's at least one centimetre in diameter. If it was smaller, it wouldn't have shown on the x-rays." Popyrin's voice was totally different. It was calm. Leveled. "We want to start by diagnosing it. It could be one of two different kinds, we need to make sure which one it is before starting treatment. In order to do this, we must do a biopsy. I'd like you to come in again, the day after tomorrow, for a bronchoscopy."

It was almost as he was watching the both of them from outside his own body. It made him think that this wasn't happening, after all. _It can't be._

Popyrin carried on. "Diagnosing it won't take long after the biopsy, so let's talk about treatment. Depending on what kind of cancer it is, the treatment differ slightly. You'll most certainly get chemo that'll be administred through an IV, and depending on what type of cancer it is, we can do surgery. If surgery isn't an option, you'll get radiation. We're going to ask you to come in for three days in a row, probably, every week. Then, you'll have to recuperate for another three to four weeks. That's called a treatment cycle. You'll be having four to six of those."

"I can't. I can't. Not now."

"I understand that there's never a good time to get this kind of information, but..."

"No, you don't understand. I can't. I... I'm travelling abroad in two weeks. I can't do this right now."

"I really must advise against it, Victor. It's imperative that we move fast and start with a treatment as soon as we possibly can. Lung cancer is not to be taken lightly."

He felt cold inside. It was definitely out of the question. Worlds was coming up, and Yuuri... _No! Yuuri! What the hell am I supposed to do? No, there's just no way._

"No! I can't!" His voice echoed inside the room. Bounced off the walls in a seemingly endless repeat. He took a deep breath, noticed that it was a quivering sort of inhale. "I... I'm sorry. It's just that this is important. This trip. I don't know if you know, but I'm a figure skating coach. The last competition is in two weeks and..." _Our lives were just about to start!_ "I just have to be there."

Popyrin looked at him. Sternly. Like when you're caught doing something idiotic, and the person who caught you doing so thought more of you.

"I really shouldn't be saying this as an onchologist, but fair enough. Fair enough. But as soon as you get back, you're coming here. Do I have your word?"

"Yes. You have my word."

"Then," Popyrin said whilst holding out his hand, "I'll see you on Thursday."

* * *

He decided to walk. Not caring the slightest about how long it would take to get home. He needed to clear his head. Land in this new reality of his. Somehow, this new reality didn't feel real. It felt like a cruel joke.

He realised that he had a lot of questions. Questions he felt scared to ask out loud. They ranged from 'will I lose my hair' to the inevitable one. _Will I live?_

Victor tried to remember the conversation. _Treatment. He said treatment. You can treat this. It's been caught early._ Sadly, it wasn't reassuring at all.

As he got closer to home, he felt a shift inside. He would have to tell Yuuri.

But not right now.

* * *

As the doors to the lift opened, they met. Unexpectedly.

"Hey, you. Going for a run?" He stepped out of Yuuri's way. Tried his best to sound normal. Act normal. Despite the news. Despite what was festering inside him.

"Yep!" Yuuri smiled. Gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "How did it go today?"

He felt annihilated. In a desperate try to get rid of the feeling, to shake Yuuri's words off himself, he cupped his hands around his face. Tilted it upwards slighty. Then, he met his lips, felt his tongue with his own. Wanting it to be deeper, so deep that he would lose himself and never find his way back. Yuuri reciprocated, put his hands in his hair and pulled him in. Seemingly wanting him to get led astray.

They parted, almost. Yuuri kept a soft hold of his lower lip with his teeth.

"I need that back, you know," he said distortedly. As Yuuri let him go, he embraced him. Held him tightly for a while. The feeling he had before the kiss still remained. It had latched on to him, trying to make him bend. Trying to make him break.

"The tests were inconclusive. I'm going back on Thursday." He hated himself for saying it. He didn't want this for either of them. He wanted the lies, the hurt and the uncertainty to be undone. But as soon as he had uttered those words, he knew that he'd started something. Something that he wasn't sure how to keep contained.

"Oh, okay. Shall we go practise tomorrow instead?"

Yuuri's ignorance was endearing. He wanted to keep him like this, he realised. But he knew that it wouldn't be right. Not in the long run.

"Sure, love. That sounds fine."

Yuuri patted his chest lovingly before he exited the bottom floor. He waved a little on the other side of the glass door before he took off, putting his earbuds in as he picked up pace.

Victor hurried to the exit and walked out in the street. Watching Yuuri's back disappear into the distance. There, he made a vow to himself. A vow to never drag him down. A vow that he would never have to see him cry. _Be my soft and sweet, that's all I'm asking of you. I'll try my best to be your strong and steady._

* * *

The flat was silent as he entered, except for the sound of claws against the floor. Makkachin ran up to him, scampered around his legs and made happy cries. Victor took off his shoes and coat and sat down on the floor. His face was quickly showered with enthusiastic licks.

"Hey, boy. Oh, you're such a good dog. Yes." He scrunched the poodle's ears in his hands, put his face in the fur. Whispering his secret. "Daddy's not well, Makka. You'll look after me, won't you?" He felt Makkachin sit down, cock his head to the side. As if he listened. As if he tried to understand. "Promise me you'll take care of Yuuri, too." He sighed. Kissed the black, wet nose before standing up.

He went into the kitchen and made himself some coffee. The coffee maker sputtered loudly, as it finished producing the brew.

Victor withdrew to the sofa. It felt good sitting down. He realised that he was exhausted. He relished holding the coffee cup in his hands, feeling the warmth seep into his palms and fingers. Although it burned, the sensation gave him comfort. Alleviated a little bit of the stress he felt on the inside. He took a sip. No, he wasn't really up for coffee. Holding the cup was okay, though.

* * *

Yuuri found Victor sleeping in the sofa, with Makkachin curled up at his feet. He picked up his phone and took a photo as Makkachin turned to rest on his back with his paws poking in all directions. _That's really cute._

He went into the kitchen and took out a bottle of water from the fridge. He downed it in one go, gasping as he finished the last gulp.

As he passed Victor on his way to the bathroom, he stopped. Watched him for a minute. Yuuri couldn't get enough of looking at him. He still had a hard time realising that they were together at times. How that exquisite being had even looked his way, way back when. He felt adoration sting his heart, making it hard to breathe for a second.

He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Victor's lips, making sure not to wake him. He adjusted the blanket he had kicked off himself, since it was covering more of the floor than Victor's body. "Thank you for yesterday. Can't wait to go to Japan," he whispered. Not knowing that fate had something to say on the matter.

* * *

Victor startled him. Feeling his body against him in the shower was wonderful, but unexpected.

"I thought you were out there sleeping!" He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, trying to get a glimpse of Victor before he came too close.

"I'm a man of surprises, what can I say?"

Yuuri snickered as Victor playfully bit the side of his neck, making munching noises.

"Ticklish, Yuuri?"

"You know I am!"

He was enclosed in his arms. It made it impossible for him to wash his hair, but he really didn't mind.

"You're awfully friendly today," Yuuri said.

"Oh? Haven't noticed."

They stood silent for a while. The warm water wasn't as soothing as the embrace of the other.

"It's us forever, right?" Victor's voice sounded different, Yuuri thought. Not really sad, but somewhat down.

"What's this, all of a sudden?"

"Nothing," he responded. "I just... needed to hear it today for some reason."

Yuuri turned around to face him. Studied his face. If there was something bothering him, he wasn't giving it away. He nuzzled his jaw a little. Dipped his tongue in his jugular notch. Trailed some kisses along his collarbones.

"Of course it is," he said quietly. "My body's been skipping beats ever since I first met you. No, ever since I first saw you. Can't imagine being without you."

Yuuri was rewarded with a kiss and a beaming smile. Apparently it was the right answer.

"Even when I grow sick and weary?"

"Especially then!"

Yuuri didn't know it at the time, but his words would set a lot of things in motion. Things he would remember with fondness, several years later, when he woke up in his home in Japan.


	3. Year One: Spring, part two

They sat next to each other, with their heads close together. Sharing earbuds. Listening through countless of songs on Spotify.

"What do you think," Yuuri asked.

Victor loved how he wanted his input on things, even though he was perfectly capable of making those kinds of decisions on his own. It cemented the notion that they were indeed a 'us'. Making decisions together, no matter the subject.

"It's all about having fun, Yuuri. It's the only time we can skate for fun without pressure, so... Just go with what inspires you."

Yuuri had been invited beforehand to skate at the gala after Worlds. Finding music to his exhibition was a bigger issue than coming up with choreography. They had been trying to find a song for weeks.

"I just can't decide if I want it to be fun or somewhat serious, though. I would love to just go crazy, but something lyrical would suit me better, I think."

"Then, I'll decide for you as your coach," Victor said as he playfully pulled on a black strand of hair. "You're going to do something fun, since that's not what people expect you to do. Go for a song with lyrics, even. Something crazy. You need to surprise them, always."

Yuuri glanced at him with a smile on his face. He leaned in and kissed his jaw.

"So," Victor resumed, "what are your options?"

"You'll see! If I'm to surprise them, I'd like to surprise you too."

"You're such a tease!" He stuck a finger underneath the collar of Yuuri's shirt and gave it a little tug. Yuuri followed his lead without any resistance.

* * *

Thursday. Victor found himself being slightly nervous. Yuuri had offered to come along, but Victor said no. Told him that he could do something more fruitful with his day. ' _They're just going to do some more tests, I'll be done before you know it_ '. In retrospect, he wished that he could have come but it was impossible. _He needs it to be calm around him. There's so much at stake._

He felt a tremble inside. Tried to count the days until he knew for sure that he could tell him what was going on. Why he was tired. Why he had an annoying cough at times. Why he couldn't skate. Why they should...

"Victor?" It was Dr. Popyrin. "How are you?"

"I'm okay." He really wasn't okay.

They shook hands.

"I'm not going to do the biopsy today, but I just wanted to check up on you. How are you holding up?"

Victor looked at him, but said nothing. Feeling unsure about if the tremble would become a quake if words started to spill out. He recieved a pat on the shoulder.

They walked down a corridor and turned right. They entered a room where he was told to relax in the hospital bed at the far side.

"They'll be with you in a minute." He paused. "You're getting a MRI next time I see you. The wait is usually long, but I've managed to sneak you in. Would you mind calling me once you're on your way home?"

Victor nodded.

"See you in two weeks then, Victor?"

"Actually, it'll be closer to three. I'm sorry. Something came up."

Popyrin's voice sounded undismayed, although he delivered a stern look. "Call. At once when you're on your way back."

He nodded. Still fighting with that quivering sensation on the inside. _Coming here makes it worse. It makes it real._

* * *

"You'll feel a light sting and... there." The cannula was inserted into the back of his hand. "You have great veins. You'll be getting a mild sedative through here," the nurse said and taped it in place. She loosened the band on his upper arm, the bloodflow started with a tingle. "You'll feel slightly drunk, it's really pleasant."

Instinctively, Victor laughed. "Can I take some home?"

The nurse smiled. She had apparently heard that joke before, but the smile was still warm.

Victor was prepped with an anesthetic that was sprayed in the back of his throat. It stung a little and had a weird taste. Of bananas, he thought. A jelly was squirted into his nostril. It stung even worse. He was told that it also was supposed to numb him since the bronchoscope was to be inserted through there.

It wasn't as bad as he had expected. When the IV with the sedative started, it felt good. Pleasant, even. He wanted to cough at first as the scope went down his throat, but when it passed his vocal chords it stopped itching.

He never felt the tiny pieces of his lung being pinched off. In his slightly intoxicated state, he couldn't care less. He just wanted to sleep. At home in his own bed. Next to the person he loved more than he loved himself.

* * *

He was sent home as soon as his head felt clear and his swallow reflex was back. Apparently, it was more important that the reflex came back than his head being unmuddled. _Oh, the naughty thoughts..._

He sent Yuuri a text.

_To: Yuu~ri!_

_I'm done over here. Where are you? xxx_

If he was at the rink, it would take him around twenty minutes to walk there. His phone beeped, as on cue.

_From: Yuu~ri!_

_I just got here! And you can't come. I know what song I'm using for the gala, and you're officially banned from seeing or hearing anything :3_

_To: Yuu~ri!_

_Naw, don't be like that! Can't I come anyway? Pretty please?_

_From: Yuu~ri!_

_Sure, you can come. Not here, though. Maybe at home in... the shower later xD_

_To: Yuu~ri!_

_Now, I have a nosebleed. Don't do this to meee~!_

_From: Yuu~ri!_

_Patience is not simply the ability to wait. It's how we behave while we're waiting._

_To: Yuu~ri!_

_Japanese proverb? I fail miserably! Both at waiting and behaving :( Seriously, though. Hurry home? Please?_

_From: Yuu~ri!_

_If you'll do the cooking ;)_

_To: Yuu~ri!_

_I thought I was having you?_

_From: Yuu~ri!_

_Stop! I'll hurry home!_

* * *

Victor took a taxi home, and went out with Makkachin to get groceries. It's strange how focused a person can be when the right kind of boon presents itself. He knew exactly what to get, what to make and how to do it. He prepared dinner, waiting impatiently for Yuuri to get home.

Yuuri on the other hand, hurried home and was met by a pacing Victor. A helpful Victor. A turned on Victor.

"I've been waiting for you," he said. Acting much like a cat that rubs itself against anything. Everything.

"Hey, just let me take off my shoes! Victor!" Yuuri cooed, feeling extremely appreciated. Not being able to say much more than one word at a time, being constantly interrupted by Victor's lips on his own. He tried to remove his jacket but it was hard since Victor had him pinned against the wall, not letting him use his hands freely.

Yuuri laughed, and was silenced again by the lips he wanted all over himself. "Honestly, Victor... We can't stand in the hallway."

"Works fine, if you ask me." His voice was husky, warm against Yuuri's neck.

"I'm all sweaty too, come on... Let's go to the bathroom at least." _As promised._

They lost all their clothes on the way there, being latched to one another. Taking it slow, doing it purposefully. Managing some garments on their own, while some demanded teamwork. Underneath the warm stream of water, they kept their promises to each other. Until they had to recover on the cold bathroom floor.


	4. Year One: Spring, part three

This was it. Yuuri's moment.

As the music faded away, the crowd exploded. Erupted in an ear-deafening roar. Like they'd seen something that they would never experience again. Like they'd seen something that moved them, the applauds and cheers sustaining the feeling without waning. Victor understood this, he felt the same. _Finally. I don't know who to thank, but thank you! Thank you for giving this to him. To me._

Yuuri's short program had been a solid one. Due to a miss on one of the early quad jumps, he placed fifth out of thirty. The program was difficult, and had a lot of high base scoring elements. It proved to be a goldmine of a program, really, since Yuuri managed to keep the rest of the routine together without any mistakes.

The free skate, however... It had been sublime. Flawless. Like an ethereal dream from beginning to end. _All the nitpicking paid off. Told you, Katsudon._

He saw him on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His red and white costume both blended with the ice and acted as a captivating contrast. Victor couldn't wait for him to come. Come to him. He had a lot of things he wanted to say, a lot of things he wanted to do but they would have to wait. Just for a couple of days longer. Now, he wanted him to know how proud he was. How happy he was that this, Yuuri's first win, happened at this exact moment in time. His heart swelled as he saw Yuuri stand up.

Finally, Yuuri took his leave. Bowed to the audience, thanking them for their support. Victor looked up at the screens overhead, seeing Yuuri wipe his eyes with his sleeve as he skated towards the exit. Trying hard not to enter ugly-cry territory. _It's entirely justified if you do. You did good, Yuuri. You did good._

They embraced. Yuuri was digging into him, shaking as he did. Not being prepared to let go. Holding on to to the only thing he thought to be stable.

"You did good, Yuuri," Victor whispered in his ear, trying hard to be the stability that Yuuri was yearning for. "Come, let's get your score."

* * *

A strange turn of events.

Yuuri's free skate got exactly what it deserved, extremely high marks. As soon as the score got delivered, putting Yuuri in first place with the scores of the short program and the free skate combined, he darted off. Victor barely managed to catch a glimpse of him as he escaped into the locker room.

"Yuuri? Hey, what was that about?" He wanted to tread carefully, but he felt concerned. Maybe he pushed a little more than he was supposed to.

"Not now, Victor. I really want to be alone." His voice was unsteady. He was fighting not only tears but something else as well. Victor couldn't understand what.

"I'm so proud of you..." he started, but got cut off.

"I want to be alone, okay!"

Yuuri turned his back to him, started to wrestle his way out of his costume. Victor walked out without a word.

* * *

Standing outside the locker room made him feel unwanted. Like he had failed at something he couldn't put his finger on. His mind started to wander, viciously trying to pull him out of his protective bubble. Immersing himself in Yuuri's final competition for the season had made him forget what was waiting for him. What apparently was inside of him. He wanted to remain in the bubble for a while longer. Pretend that there was a normality while being inside of it, but it felt as if it was getting thin. Ready to pop and drop him back into the reality he still wanted to detach himself from.

He got startled when he heard his name being called.

"Victor, hey! Why are you standing out here?"

It was Chris. They had seen each other briefly the day before, but never got the time to catch up. Not that there was a whole lot Victor wanted to say, anyway. It was too soon for any of that.

"I'm just waiting for Yuuri. He's changing clothes."

"You know... I think he's going to get it this time. That free program, it was crazy. I mean... hell. It was flawless. It's like he's finally gotten ahead of his nerves, eh?"

"Mhm. I couldn't be prouder."

"So... why are you out here again? Shouldn't you be in there?" Chris winked and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

"He said he wanted to be alone, so..."

"It's good between you, though? Right?"

"Yes. Yes, absolutely." _So far._

"Then you won't mind me going in there?"

Victor scoffed. "I think you're the only guy I don't mind him being alone with."

Chris gave Victor a pat on the shoulder and entered the locker room.

* * *

Yuuri turned around as soon as he heard the cat call, startled since he wasn't wearing anything on top. He sighed when he saw who it was.

"You could look happier to see me, you know," Chris said with a smirk.

"Hi, Chris." Yuuri pulled on his shirt and zipped up his jacket.

"In all honesty, though... I came here to congratulate you. I think it's going all the way for you today. And tonight too, if you're in luck."

Yuuri flushed. _No inhibitions, as always._ "Th... thanks."

"It was crazy, that free program. I just wanted to tell you that. Congratulations. Your overall score is in the threehundred and twenties!" He extended his hand. Yuuri grabbed and shook it. "I saw Victor out there," Chris continued. "Why isn't he in here with you?"

"I just needed to be alone for a little while, you know."

"Just four skaters left. Is that why?"

Yuuri could feel his eyes burning. Yes, that was exactly why. He was nervous and his anxiety was clawing at him from the inside. How he managed to stay composed was beyond his comprehension. He had really pushed himself in his free program. He could hardly walk afterwards. The shaking had just started to subside before Chris entered, but now, it was building up again.

"There's nothing to worry about, though. Or is there?"

Yuuri shook his head. Or yes, there was. Not winning gold would mean...

"Here, let me show you something." Chris took out his phone, went into the camera gallery and pressed play on a video clip. He handed the phone over to Yuuri.

"Is... is this now?"

"Yes. From when you were skating."

They sat in silence for a a couple of minutes. Watching the small screen.

Yuuri was mesmerised. Chris had filmed Victor from behind as he was watching Yuuri skate. This was a side of Victor he never got to see. How he almost skated together with him while being off the ice.

"Watch this," Chris suddenly said.

Yuuri recognised the passage in the music. It was the quad flip-triple toe combination, almost at the end of the program. Yuuri's hand automatically flew up and covered his mouth. _He's doing the jumps with me._ He had to dry his eyes.

"Here, he's wiping his face when he noticed that you nailed the combination. Such a softie."

Chris took the phone from Yuuri and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Don't you ever doubt that guy, Yuuri. Even if you don't win gold today, and I know you will, he's going to be there for you. He wants what's best for you, you know? He's yours, okay? You'll get what you want today."

Yuuri laughed. Strangely, he felt better. He never thought that Chris would be the person to ever cheer him up.

"Thank you, Chris. Honestly, thank you."

Chris gave Yuuri a big kiss on the mouth in return. "Don't mention it. Now go out there, okay? He's waiting for you."

* * *

Victor's eyes met Chris' when he walked out of the locker room. They said nothing to each other as they stood face to face. Chris smiled, nodded slightly and walked away.

_Thank you. I don't know what you did, but thanks, Chris._

Victor peered into the locker room. Yuuri was putting his things in his bag. He'd changed out of his costume and was dressed in his black JSF training clothes now.

"Yuuri?" As he said his name, his phone buzzed. He picked it up and looked at the screen. He saw in the corner of his eye that Yuuri turned to face him. As he read his text, his eyes started to well up with tears.

_From: Gay-acometti ;p_

_There you go! Congratulations, coach and husband-to-be. 8.2 points in front of the runner up :D Get over here, and take that cry baby with you! Tell him to change into his costume again!_

"Victor?" Yuuri's voice was concerned. He came closer.

Victor lifted his head. Dried his eyes. Fired off a smile that came from the bottom of his heart.

"Yuuri," he sniffed. "You have to change. They want you out there."

"Eh?"

"You won, Yuuri! You won gold!" Victor threw himself around Yuuri's neck. Kissed him again and again. "You did it, Yuuri!" _Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

Together, they sank to the floor. In an embrace that embodied the essence of 'Kiss and Cry'.

* * *

"Is this what it feels like, Victor?" Yuuri stood by the exit to the ice, waiting for the announcer to call the medalists out for the prize giving ceremony.

"Perhaps," Victor smiled with one finger to his lips. "At least the first couple of times."

" _Welcome to the ISU World Championships prize giving ceremony. To the ice, we call in third place in the men's singles..._ "

Yuuri laughed. He felt high. High on life. High on love. _And Victor has done this five times..._

 _"We call in second place..._ "

"Yuuri?"

"Yes, Victor?"

"Hurry back with that medal. I really want to kiss your gold."

" _And in first place, from Japan... Yuuri Katsuki!"_

"That's you," Victor said. "Go, go!"

Yuuri entered the ice, his arms spread out to accept the cheers. Relishing an unforgettable moment, at least for this particular dime-of-a-dozen figure skater from Japan.

* * *

The press was on Yuuri as soon as he got off the ice. He had never experienced this before. News crews, reporters and camera flashes bombarded him. Victor wasn't there, he stood a few paces away. Letting Yuuri bask in his moment.

_I would be more comfortable with you here..._

As the photographers wanted to get pictures of Yuuri, holding his medal, he desperately looked for Victor. Trying to tell him that he wanted him close. He felt uncomfortable.

"Ah, Mr. Nikiforov! Victor!" Reporters motioned Victor to come closer, to join Yuuri for at least some shots.

"Thank god you're here. It's... intense. I, uh..."

"Life on top, Yuuri." Victor winked. He quickly grabbed hold of Yuuri's medal and kissed it. Flashes went off instantly. He was indeed media trained.

"Hey, hey," a reporter said, "both of you kiss it! It'll be an amazing shot."

Yuuri looked at Victor, feeling slightly abashed by the whole situation. _Oh... I don't know..._

"Yuuri?" Victor held the medal to his lips. Yuuri leaned in and kissed the other side.

"One more, one more," a photographer said.

As Yuuri was prepared to meet the cool of the medal for a second time, he met something warm and soft instead. The laughs and appreciative noises went away, grew inaudible, as he tasted Victor's mouth.


	5. Year One: Spring, part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song 'Time in a bottle' © Jim Croce, 1972 Demon Records

 

"Room for one more?"

Victor watched Yuuri as he sleepily opened his eyes, with his nose barely above the surface of the water. He'd been soaking in the tub for quite some time, winding down after recieving his gold medal and training with the other skaters afterwards for the gala. He shifted a little, leaving a small space behind his back for Victor to claim. Inviting him to join.

Victor dropped his bathrobe on the floor and slid down behind him. The water wasn't as warm as he'd hoped, but Yuuri's presence made him forget about it. In order for both of them to fit, he put both of his legs on the edges of the tub. Yuuri sighed as he reclined, resting against his chest.

"You're not going to fall asleep, I hope?" He let his arms fall down naturally over Yuuri's shoulders, resting his hands on his chest and stomach.

"No..." His voice sounded languid.

"Yuuri, I just want you to know how proud I am. It feels like I'm going to burst."

"Aw, don't say it like that." He tried to find his eyes, but failed. Eventually returning to relax against him.

"But it's true! I knew that this moment would come eventually, and I'm so happy that we can share this together, right now." _There really isn't a better time than right now._

"Victor?"

"Mhm?"

"Thank you."

"No need, Katsudon. There's no need."

"But there is." Yuuri braided his fingers together with Victor's. "Without you, this would never have happened. I'm just... so thankful. I'm just so happy."

Victor felt the trembles against his chest before he saw them. He responded by holding on to him, letting Yuuri shed the emotions that had been building up ever since he skated out to claim what was rightfully his. Months of preparation, months of struggling. It all had culminated tonight and now, there was no need for the tension to be there anymore.

It felt like it would never stop. His billowing against him. Yuuri had buried his face in his hands, alternately sobbing and laughing.

"It's like I don't know what I feel! I don't know what to feel!"

"I know. I know. Just let it come. You did good. You did so good." He tightened his grip around him. "I love you, Yuuri."

"I love you too! So, so much!" His sobs made him convulse, made his words come out as feeble chopped up pieces of sounds.

Victor was patient, just like Yuuri had taught him to be. He just remained there, still and steady against and around him. Waited him out. Waited until he became calm before he let him go.

* * *

Yuuri was the first one to get out of bed. Not only did he have an early practise before the gala, again with the other skaters, but the officials wanted all of the skaters to rehearse their routines beforehand to check lights and sound.

He felt giddy. Nervous. He tried to remind himself that there wasn't anything at stake now. He was supposed to do his exhibition program, enjoy himself and go home. Go home to start over again for the next season. Although... he wanted this to be perfect. He wanted to do this for Victor. He knew that he would surprise him today, once he entered the ice.

He got dressed, being in a semi-awake state. He found his CD with the song he'd finally chosen, opened his suitcase and took out his clothes for the gala. _It's going to be for us, this routine. Nothing more, nothing less._ He put his things in his backpack, and had to stifle a yawn. He really wished that he could stay with Victor in bed.

As he prepared to leave, he went over to him. Looked at him, being curled up in bed. He got closer, listened to a couple of breaths before he kissed him, feathery soft, on his forehead.

"See you later. You're in for a surprise."

* * *

Victor felt strange not being down by the boards for this. Instead, he and the other coaches were seated a couple of rows away from the rink. As the lights started to dim overhead, he felt intrigued. He wanted to see why Yuuri had been all cloak-and-dagger for the last week and a half.

At first, some synchronised skating from all of the participants. He tried looking for Yuuri, but had a hard time finding him. _If I only knew what he was wearing today..._ Victor had no choice but to wait. The gala proceeded, starting with the pairs. After the pairs, the male and female skaters were called in at random. Victor found himself enjoying himself. It was different, not being a part of it. _That's how it's going to be from now on._ He hurriedly disposed of the intruding, dark thought.

After five skaters, Yuuri was called out.

" _Representing Japan, we welcome the reigning champion, the winner of the World Figure Skating Championship. Let's give a hand for Yuuri Katsuki!"_

Victor became focused. Not daring to blink. His eyes were fixed on Yuuri as he skated in from the side.

_What is he wearing? Looks like something... ordinary?_

Yuuri prepared himself. Crossed his right arm over his chest, placing his hand over his heart. Then the music started.

_It is a lyrical piece after all. Sneaky._

_If I could save time in a bottle_  
_The first thing that I'd like to do_  
_Is to save every day_  
_'Til eternity passes away_  
_Just to spend them with you_

The words pierced Victor. He felt his heart beating harder. Faster. Hurting him with every life-sustaining cramp.

_If I could make days last forever_  
_If words could make wishes come true_  
_I'd save every day like a treasure and then,_  
_Again, I would spend them with you_

Suddenly, he knew what this was about. Yuuri's seemingly ordinary clothes. His song of choice. It was a declaration of love, never-ending love. This performance was about them, how they never needed to pretend. How they could remain themselves in the company of each other, without having to try.

_But there never seems to be enough time_  
_To do the things you want to do_  
_Once you find them_  
_I've looked around enough to know_  
_That you're the one I want to go_  
_Through time with_

That's when he broke. This song, the words so carefully put together, spoke to him. Made him fear what was to come. He wanted to do what the song so sadly implied in its first verse, slowly realising that he, they, would probably face the exact same horror. Not being given enough time.

_If I had a box just for wishes_  
_And dreams that had never come true_  
_The box would be empty_  
_Except for the memory_  
_Of how they were answered by you_

Victor decided, then and there, that this would be the only time he shed tears in the vicinity of him. So he let it out. Felt the fear he'd been carrying on his own take over. As he cried, albeit silently, he thought about death. How he was going to leave him with only his grief as company. How he would never be able to touch him, kiss him. Feel the smell of him. How they never were going to make love, ever again. How he would just cease to exist, leaving the only thing he ever cared about behind. How they would never experience things together, see each other grow in the process. No more laughs, no more warm embraces, no more exploring tongues. Just... no more. Nothing more.

_I don't want this. I don't want to die. I want to live, live together with you. I'm afraid. I'm so afraid to leave you behind!_

_But there never seems to be enough time_  
_To do the things you want to do_  
_Once you find them_  
_I've looked around enough to know_  
_That you're the one I want to go_  
_Through time with_

He wanted to go down there. Throw himself into his arms. Hearing him say that it was going to be okay. That they would be together. Most of all, he wanted to step out of the nightmare that had started to get a hold of him. _Help me, Yuuri! Wake me up!_

* * *

Down there on the ice, Yuuri finally saw Victor as his program came to a close. He'd been desperately looking for him. He didn't know it then, but he misunderstood the raw emotions that were on display. Taking them for something else entirely. Feeling proud that he'd done something that made Victor react the way he did.


	6. Year One: Spring, part five

They found each other, eventually. And when they did, they said nothing. They just embraced, felt the other close. Like two pieces of a puzzle, they fit perfectly together. Overlapping every ridge and curve, leaving no possible gaps.

"Time to go?" Victor's voice was raspy when he eventually spoke.

"Yes. Time to go home." Yuuri backed off a little, to watch Victor. Studied his face. He was more collected now, he thought, although his voice was still holding on to the emotions that had been on display earlier. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, held on to his hair to keep it from obscuring his face.

Yuuri continued. "I saw you, you know. What... what did you think?"

Victor pulled him close again. Spoke into his ear. "It was the most heartfelt thing I've ever experienced, I think. You really surprised me. You leave no room for misinterpretation."

"I just wanted to thank you. Let you know what I feel. I... I know that it's hard for me to find words at times but... skating is simpler."

"I couldn't be more proud of you, Yuuri. The fact that you not only changed the choreography to fit the music, music you chose not too long ago... You're the best student I ever had."

Yuuri laughed. "I hope I'm your only student!"

A small snicker. Yes, a shift happened in Victor. It was like seeing a ray of light break through dark and heavy clouds when he smiled. "Then, let me surprise you too. In order to celebrate your win properly, we're off on an adventure."

"What? We're not going home?"

"No. I've got something planned for you. I hope you'll humor me. Come, we must hurry. The flight leaves in four hours, give or take. There won't be a banquet for you tonight."

* * *

"We're going to Las Vegas?!" Yuuri's face was battling with several emotions at once. Disbelief, surprise, happiness and anticipation. He threw himself around Victor's neck, squealed in the way he usually did when being ecstatic. "What a surprise! Why there of all places?"

"You'll see," Victor winked. "I have a surprise planned for you. I hope you'll love it as much as I do."

"Oh, it's for your benefit too?"

"You could say that. Come, let's go to the gate. When we're on the plane, I want to drink!"

* * *

They changed flights in Atlanta. As soon as the take off was completed, they fell asleep. Yuuri, with his head supported by a pillow against the wall of the cabin, and Victor against Yuuri's shoulder. There was no drinking, no talking. Just slow and steady breathing.

After approximately five hours, they landed. It was late, and the both of them just wanted to return to sleep. They were travelling light, and not before long, they were leaning against each other again, in a taxi bound for their hotel.

"If you want to go to see The Strip," Victor yawned, "we have to drive there. We're getting a car tomorrow so it won't be a problem."

No answer. Sleep had claimed Yuuri almost immediately.

Eventually, they arrived. Stumbling through the doors, being too tired to take in anything. Victor checked them in, and they left to find their room.

"Here we are," Victor said appreciatively as they entered their suite. "Yuuri, don't lie down just yet, you're just going to fall asleep. Go brush your teeth at least."

"Just for a moment, okay?" His words were muffled as he spoke into the pillow.

"No, come on. Come." He coaxed Yuuri into the bathroom, dug around in his bag until he found his toiletries. He picked out his toothbrush and prepped it with toothpaste before handing it over to him. "There. Get going." He kissed his hair, stood behind him and watched him in the mirror as he half-heartedly wisped the toothbrush around is his mouth. _Why is everything you do just so adorable? Even when you're almost asleep, grumpy and tousled, I just... I just want you, everything about you. Until the end of... shit. Shake it off!_

Yuuri spat out the excess and turned to walk out of the bathroom. Victor stopped him, tilted his chin upwards and kissed him.

"That's better. Now, get to bed. I'll join you soon."

* * *

They slept in, with no plans of getting out of bed before noon. They decided to take it easy, order room service and just stay entwined. Do everything in bed.

"This is what I love with the season being officially over," Yuuri said as he took a big bite out of his stack of pancakes. "I've missed this! Eating carbs!" He sighed blissfully.

Victor scoffed. He remembered when he first met Yuuri. Him being out of shape due to his emotional eating, finding excuses to have just one more bowl of katsudon. Or anything else that was tasty, really.

"I wish you could sound as enthusiastic and pleased in other situations as well," he said playfully, stroking the back of Yuuri's thigh. He looked out the window, saw the ridges of Red Rock Canyon loom in the distance. _Tomorrow... I can't wait. It'll give me peace of mind._

"So, Victor?" Yuuri's voice made him direct his attention to the here and now. "What are we doing today?"

"Yeah, you were asleep when I told you, weren't you? We're off to get a car today, so we must go back to the airport. Then, we could experience Sin City a bit. What do you think?"

"Like, gamble and stuff?"

"If you want to. We'll do exactly anything you want."

Yuuri scooted over and put his head on Victor's chest.

"I'm not worthy of all of this," he said under his breath. "Thank you."

Victor trailed his fingers along Yuuri's back, as if to console him. As if to tell him that he was worthy of this and so much more. He shifted to get access to his lips, and when they met, the sweet taste of syrup and strawberries took over. Leaving him with a need that he wanted satisfied.

* * *

With some drinks in Yuuri's sensitive system, his inhibitions started to ebb away. Victor felt a small sting of bad conscience, telling him to take 'just one more', but he found Yuuri being an extremely endearing drunk. It made it easier to talk him into things, too. That's why they ended up where they were, at a male strip club.

Victor wanted to see what was about to happen, waiting impatiently for everything to start. It was only suitable that Yuuri was going to be presented with a lap dance. Victor saw it as a fun social experiment.

He glanced at Yuuri. Okay, he wasn't totally comfortable. Some inhibitions were still in effect. But he didn't seem to be crawling out of his skin either. Victor leaned in, used a loud voice to prevent himself from being drowned out by the music. "If you're feeling uncomfortable with anything, we're leaving. Okay?" Yuuri nodded in response.

A blond. Perfect teeth, his hair slightly slicked back. Luminating green eyes. Extremely low-cut jeans resting on his hips. An adonis, really. A perfect specimen. Victor placed himself more comfortably in his armchair, crossed his legs. _Let the games begin._

Yuuri's eyes widened. Searched for Victor's. He wanted support. Victor calmly met his, gave him a little nod as if to tell him that it was okay. _It's definitely okay._

"I'm Chris," the blond said _._ "And you are...?"

Victor had to bite his tongue. _Of course his name is Chris! That's amusing. I'll have to remember this._

Yuuri's eyes went back and forth, between Victor and the jean-clad crotch that was very close to his face. He turned his face away slightly, blushing as he did. "Yuuri," he answered.

"Yuuri? Is that right? Well, Yuuri, we're going to have some fun, you and I. Okay?"

Victor could see him swallow. Holding on to the armrests.

As the dancer started to move, gyrating inches away from Yuuri, Victor leaned back. This was quite a show, indeed. Although, Yuuri wasn't into it. He looked somewhat nervous, made no attempts to touch the dancer.

"You guys married?" The stripper tried to break the ice, make Yuuri more comfortable. "Saw your rings, that's cute."

"N...no, not yet."

"Oh, is this your stag night, then?"

Yuuri looked perplexed.

"Relax. Hey, boyfriend!"

Victor met the stripper's eyes.

"Your guy ain't feeling it. How about you?"

Victor was quick to look at Yuuri. Trying to read him, see where this would end up. He seemed too confounded to understand, being all abashed and self-concious to even raise his gaze.

"Sure. Come on."

As soon as the words were spoken, Victor had the stripper hovering over his lap. Grinding slowly. He glanced at Yuuri, his hand was over his mouth now. Apparently surprised about what was taken place in front of him. Victor looked at him intently as he put his hands on the stripper's hips. It didn't make anything worse, as far as he could tell.

Victor got pulled up from his seat. Had his hands and arms forced above his head, felt the dancer's other hand on his throat as he came closer from behind. He never took his eyes off Yuuri. As soon as he could spot that moment of insecurity, that little quiver, that little sniff, he stepped away. Took Yuuri by the hand, thanked the dancer for his diligence and left the venue.

* * *

Yuuri was silent on the way back to the hotel. He didn't seem upset, just thoughtful.

They came back to their room, Victor holding on to Yuuri slightly as they passed through the door, he was tipsy. Yuuri immediately went over to the bed and fell down backwards on top of it.

"Are you okay? You had a little much to drink." _Wonder what you're thinking about._

Yuuri had his eyes closed. Slightly flushed. "Did you like it?"

"Eh? You having too much to drink?"

"That... stripper. Did you like it?"

"Sure, it was fun. If that's what you're asking."

"No. I mean... How he handled you. Dominated you. And how he... belittled me by doing so."

Victor went over to the bed, sat himself down on top of him. Trailed his thumb over his lower lip.

"Oh, Yuuri. It was meant to be fun, that's all. I saw how it all made you feel, that's why we left."

Yuuri opened his eyes. They were glistening. Of course, one of the reasons was the alcohol, but Victor understood that it couldn't be the whole truth.

"I'm sorry. Do you think I pushed you into doing something you weren't comfortable with? If that's the case, I'm sorry. Forgive me."

Yuuri blinked away his unshed tears before he answered. "I'm not sure." He paused for a moment. "It's just... you seemed to like it, so..."

 _He's just so innocent. Totally unspoiled. "_ It has nothing to do with desire. It's just a way of selling in a fantasy, you know?"

"A fantasy, huh? Is that your fantasy, Victor?" Yuuri sat up, putting his arms and hands slightly behind himself, against the mattress for support. The innocence that was there a moment ago seemed to be gone.

"What are you saying?" Victor knew, though. He sensed that the energy was different, combustible. He wanted to ignite it. Lose himself in its purgatory.

"Is. That. How. It. Is?" Yuuri's voice was low in between the kisses and licks against his neck.

"Only you can make it real."

And with those words, they caught fire, together. Experiencing a new first. One they would treasure for as long as they drew breath.

* * *

Victor felt sore as he dressed. It was a strange feeling, extremely pleasant. Extremely arousing. _Alcohol and Yuuri will always be a great combination._

"Love?" Victor raised his voice so Yuuri could hear him in the bathroom.

"Yes?"

"Question; We're doing something today, as you know. It is absolutely fine with what you're wearing now, but I just want to ask you in advance if you want to get something else? I don't mind what you look like to be honest, but there's a risk we'll get immortalised so..."

Yuuri came out from the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?" Victor smiled. Knowing very well why Yuuri acted so... smitten.

"You're wearing a _suit_? And you're telling me that it's fine with what I'm wearing?"

"We can always go get something else. Feel up for it?"

"I... don't know. What do you think?"

"You'll have to decide this time. As I said, I don't mind what you're wearing. Not at all. But, if you think we should find you something, we have to leave right now."

"When you look this... this good, I can't help feeling slightly..."

"Oh, don't be like that. Come, let's get you something dressy too."

* * *

As always, Yuuri felt slightly out of place in more formal wear but he relaxed a bit as he heard Victor's encouraging and reassuring words.

"We look good together."

He met Victor's eyes in the mirror. They shared a smile.

"Is this the one, Yuuri?"

"I think so."

"You look amazing. Great choice." He leaned in and whispered into his ear. "See that female clerk there? She's swooning."

"Over you, no doubt."

"Over us. If you're happy, let's get out of here. We have one more thing to do before it's time to go where we're supposed to."

* * *

After stopping at a convenience store, where Victor purposefully walked up and down the aisles in his quest for things to eat and drink, they headed west.

"Is it a long drive?"

"Three hours or so." Victor glanced at him as he answered.

"It looks like you're enjoying yourself."

He laughed in response. "I am. I really, really am."

"So... are you going to tell me what we're going to do anytime soon?"

"Nope. You'll see when we get there."

After something that felt like an eternity, the majestic red ridges were closer. Yuuri had been distantly looking out the window and was brought out of his reveries as he felt a slight tug on his sleeve. He felt Victor's lips on the back of his hand.

"We're here."

Yuuri turned his head to look at him. Victor was smiling, constantly stroking his hand with his thumb. He let his hand go briefly as he parked the car.

"Wait here." Victor's voice sounded warm.

Yuuri looked around as Victor got out of the car, walking over to the passenger side.

_It says Red Rock Canyon? Wonder what we're going to do here?_

"Yuuri?" Victor opened the door, peered in with a smile that could stop time. "This might be a little sudden, but," he got down on one knee, "I've brought you here today because I just can't wait anymore."

Yuuri looked at him. _Was there a shadow of sadness in his face, just now? And 'wait', he said? Wait for what?_

"What I want to ask you, Yuuri Katsuki, is," Victor said as he held his right hand in his own, "if you would do me the honor of becoming my husband. Here. Today. Right now."

Yuuri blinked. Tried to understand what he'd just been asked. Feeling his heart grasping the meaning of Victor's words before his mind did. His eyes became blurry, and it took a second before he understood why that was. He had to cover his face, he thought, but Victor kept his hand between both of his. Patiently waiting as he collected himself, ever so slowly.

"Yes," he whispered. He felt something from within, something that felt like a primal force. It made his voice grow stronger, more resolute. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Yes! I do!"

He saw Victor quickly wipe a tear off his cheek, resuming holding his hand when he was done. "In that case," Victor whispered, "let's go."


	7. Year One: Spring, part six

"Welcome, Victor! Yuuri! I thought you'd gotten cold feet." A smartly dressed, slightly older woman with a conspicuous purple tint to her hair beamed as she saw them. She extended her hand immediately. "I'm Jill. I'm so happy to be your marriage officiant today. This is Sam, he'll be your photographer and he'll double as your witness also." They all shook hands. Friendly and warm handshakes. Nervous handshakes. "Follow me, we're going a little bit further in."

They held hands, as they walked behind her. Victor could barely keep his pulse in check. It was happening. It was actually happening. He felt unsteady. Shaky. He knew he needed this. It would steady him, make him ready for all that was to ome. He brought Yuuris hand up to his lips and kissed it. Miraculously, it calmed him down. Somewhat, at least.

"Here's where we're going to be. Lovely scenery, don't you think?"

They could do nothing but agree. The red mountains were a striking contrast to the scarcely coloured desert sand that covered everything else. It was a solemn reminder of time, the fickle nature of life and, of course, love.

Victor felt Yuuri squeeze his hand. They looked at each other, found solace in each other's eyes. His blue and his brown, reflecting each other. "Ready," he mouthed, and was met by smiling lips whispering the word he most of all wanted to hear. Whispering it against his own.

* * *

"...and therefore, I ask you; Victor, do you take Yuuri as your husband with the intent of loving him, caring for him, supporting him and standing by him, no matter the hardship until you are parted by death?"

"I do."

"I ask you; Yuuri, do you take Victor as your husband with the intent of loving him, caring for him, supporting him and standing by him, no matter the hardship until you are parted by death?"

"I do."

"The rings, please. Victor, place the ring on Yuuri's finger and repeat after me; 'As I now offer you this ring, this symbol of never-ending love, completion and unity, I hereby vow that my love for you will be forever present, even when I'm not.' Go ahead."

"Yuuri... I... as I now offer you this ring, this symbol of never-ending love, completion and unity, I hereby vow that my love for you will be forever present, even when... even when I'm not."

"Yuuri, place the ring on Victor's finger and repeat after me; 'As I now offer you this ring, this symbol of never-ending love, completion and unity, I hereby vow that my love for you will be forever present, even when I'm not.' Yes, go ahead."

"As... Oh, I'm sorry. Just..."

"Take your time. It happens quite often. Just relax and continue when you're ready."

"Vi... Victor! As I now offer you this ring, this symbol of never-ending love, completion and unity, I hereby vow that my love for you will be forever present, even when I'm not."

"Thank you. Thank you both. As I listen to you, Victor and Yuuri, I understand that your relationship is strong. Infallible. It's because it's based on the foundations of love and respect, something that is beautiful to experience, give and to recieve. Now, I'm going to say what you both have been waiting to hear for the last twenty minutes or so. By the powers vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you as married. You may now kiss your husband. Congratulations to you both."

* * *

The sat on the hood of the Chevrolet, with their shoes somewhere on the ground and their backs against the windshield. Marvelling at the colours of the canyon, painted by the setting sun. Marvelling at the view of each other in the red and pinkish light.

Victor leaned back, and placed his empty paper cup on the roof. Yuuri downed the rest of the champagne and gave Victor his cup when he was done. Victor repeated the motion, putting it on top of the roof, next to his. As Victor was about to put his arm around Yuuri's shoulders, he scooted down and rested his head on Victor's lap instead.

Victor removed Yuuri's glasses. He put a grape between his lips and bent down, offering it to Yuuri who gladly accepted it. Wet from his lips, he continued on and kissed his eyelids. "How are you? Doing okay?"

Yuuri huffed out a little laugh as he swallowed. "You really do know how to surprise people, Victor. And yes, of course I'm okay. More than okay!"

They interlaced their right hands.

"Can you believe it," Yuuri continued. "We're _married_."

Victor put Yuuri's hand to his lips and kissed the rings on his ring finger. "Barely," he whispered.

"I had just gotten used to wearing one, but... it really looks better with two," Yuuri said. He let go of Victor's hand, removed his wedding band and squinted to read the engraving. "What does it say?"

"It says 'Deszhis' ryadom so mnoy'. 'Stay close to me' in English. And my name, of course. We need to add the date, I wasn't sure if you were going to make me an honorable man today, so I left it out."

Yuuri made a soft, whimpering sound. One that told Victor that was moved. One that made his heart skip a beat.

"I really hope you can help me with getting my ring engraved once we get to Japan." _We must get to Japan._

Yuuri put his ring back on his finger and resumed braiding his fingers together with Victor's.

"Definitely. Is it silly if it says the same thing in Japanese?"

"I would love it if it did. What is it in Japanese, Yuuri?"

"It's 'Soba ni ite'. Strange, how that routine of yours made all of this happen in a way."

Victor laughed. "You know that it's not because of the routine. It's because of you, being drunk, grinding yourself against me with almost nothing on. The routine just made me understand that you weren't all talk. Or grind."

Yuuri couldn't stop himself from laughing, either. "I still can't belive I did that, and I'm so happy that I don't remember anything! 'Be my coach, Victooor!' You have deleted everything on your phone from that night, right?"

"Never! You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead..." _Dead hands, huh._

"Hey, what happened just now? Are you okay?"

Victor sighed. "I'm sorry, I just remembered something. Don't worry, I'm okay." He leaned as he cupped his hands around Yuuri's face. Making sure that the upside down kiss would make them both forget the sudden darkness that had come over him. It worked wonders. As they parted, they were winded and flushed. Hungry for more.

"Shall we get back? It's pitch black."

"I guess. We need to find our shoes first, though."

* * *

They couldn't keep their hands off each other when driving back in the car. When they entered the hotel, their need for each other had evolved. Their mouths became inseparable. When they unlocked the door to their room, the need reached its final form, or at least tried to. Constantly being halted by stubborn buttons, irritating zippers and clumsy hands.

When they finally managed to look upon each other, in the way they had been longing to do ever since they said 'I do', they took flight. Not leaving any room for thoughts, reflections, ideas or opinions. They wanted to claim each other in a different context, a new context, and they were adamant in doing just that. And thus, what had started as a breeze became a hurricane. Leaving nothing behind other than two lovers, experiencing each other for the first time under the influence of an unbreakable vow.

* * *

As they prepared to leave the hotel, Victor remembered. Remembered something that threatened to make his protective bubble disintegrate.

"Yuuri, go ahead. I'm just going to make a call. Maybe you can handle the checkout?"

It felt like forever, scrolling through the contacts. Finding the one he needed, but had to convince himself, to call. He eventually pressed the phone button. Held his breath. Hoping to not get an answer.

"Mikhail Popyrin speaking."

"Dr. Popyrin? It's... it's Victor. Nikiforov."

"Oh, Victor! I've been thinking about you. You calling me must mean that you're on your way home?"

"Yes."

"Are you well?"

"Yes, I don't feel any different. Still a bit tired but other than that, I'm fine."

"Good. That's good to hear. Listen, can I see you on... Wednesday, then? I want to talk to you about the treatment, the biopsy and your overall health. I'll make sure that we can do the MRI when you come in, too."

"I... I would like to say that 'it sounds good', but..."

"Of course. I understand. If you come in at, say, eleven? Will that work for you?"

"Eleven on Wednesday. I'll see you then."

"Perfect. See you then, Victor. Take care of yourself."

"Thank you. Bye."

Victor ended up standing with the phone in his hand. Frozen, as if the situation made him devoid of anything that resembled life. He didn't want to go back home. He didn't want to face what was to come. As if staying away would somehow change the outcome. As if playing make-believe would give him peace of mind. Again, that thought. What if it all was a dream? Maybe they had mistaken him for someone else? Someone without all the reasons to live that he could honestly say that he had? It was a selfish thought, but somewhere in his mind, he wanted it to be true. He needed it to be true.

He snapped out of it, eventually. Saw his husband beaming at him, happy to make another journey with him, by his side. His outstretched hand spoke volumes. That simple, loving gesture.

_Oh, Yuuri. My life. My love. My husband. If you only knew what life seems to have in store for us. I really want to tell you, but now is not the time. It will have to wait. Wait until we come home, where I know you feel safe. I only hope that I won't tear you apart._


	8. Year One: Spring, part seven

After almost eighteen hours, two stops and just about no sleep at all, they arrived at Pulkovo.

"I hate travelling eastward," Yuuri yawned as they waited for thier luggage. "It's only noon, but it feels so late."

"Tell me about it. We probably should try to stay awake, though. It'll be easier tomorrow."

"Don't know if I can. Oh, I want to sleep."

"Hang in there. We can get Makka from Yakov tomorrow, but we should probably go buy some food. You emptied the fridge, right?"

"Yes, I did but... can't we go shopping later? We could get some take-out instead, just for today. I don't feel like doing much."

"So be it," Victor said and buried his nose in Yuuri's hair. "Got your bag?"

"Mhm, let's go."

They went outside. Getting a taxi was easy, and soon enough, they ended up dozing off in the backseat. Heads close together, without a care in the world. The driver cleared his throat apologetically after he pulled over outside their building, making Victor wake up with a jerk.

"I'm sorry, we weren't much company! That's embarrassing... Thank you so much." He paid the fare and gently squeezed Yuuri's shoulder. "Wake up, sleeing beauty. We're home."

* * *

As they came through the door, Victor's heart sank. He knew what he had to do but, again, it didn't feel right. Like the timing was wrong. He decided to wait. Just a little bit longer. And tomorrow, the same thing was bound to happen since they were meeting up with Yakov and the rest of the senior skaters. Meeting up after Yuuri's victory.

He came back to the here and now as Yuuri's loud yawn surprised him.

"That's it, we're both having coffee."

He took off his shoes and went over to the kitchen to start the brewer.

"I'll take your coat." Yuuri's soft hands from behind, helping him out of it. Victor gave him a smile in return.

As the brewer sputtered, signaling that it was done with its task, he took two cups from the cupboard and poured them both maybe a little too much. They had to sip a little while bending over, with the cups still on the counter, in order not to spill anything.

"This will keep me up for days," Yuuri laughed.

As they managed to get the amount of coffee under control in their cups, Victor asked Yuuri to follow him into the bedroom.

"Since I have my skating awards here, it's only appropriate that yours are in here too, don't you think?" He put his arm around his waist, pulled him a little bit closer. "Shall we put your medals on the same wall?"

They stood and watched the mosaic of Victor's achievements together. Medals, photos, plaques. All up on the wall, telling the history of the Russian living legend. Looking at them, Victor understood that he had achieved a lot. Though in all honesty, they meant nothing. The only thing that meant something was standing next to him, resting his head on his shoulder.

"Will they fit? Won't it look stupid if my measly medals invade your space?"

"Don't be stupid, Yuuri. We must make room for more. There will be more, right?" _Please say yes._

"I hope so. With you behind me, I think there might be a possibility."

 _Now? Should I tell him now? No, that's too cruel._ "You're adorable, you know that?" He kissed his forehead. "You have all the potential in the world to excel all this. And I want you to."

Yuuri stroked his chest. It felt comforting.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you! Have you heard anything from Japan? About your win?"

"Yes, mom called. Minako called. And a lot of texts from the others. They are looking forward to see us."

"They will." _I'll make sure of it._ "Oh, and about your sudden... elopement with some whimsical foreigner?"

"Still haven't told them. I want to do it when we get there!"

Victor felt a sting of guilt. _That's not the only thing we will be telling them. How can I ever go through with this? It'll just... kill everything that's good. I don't want that._ "Oh... I thought that you'd done it already. Fine, we'll tell them when we get there." Victor paused. "You don't feel bad that it ended up like this? Marrying each other on a whim? I know we talked about involving them in the actual thing, somehow, but..."

"Absolutely not! It's the best thing that could ever happen. I still can't believe that... that you're mine. And that I'm yours. I don't regret anything!"

"Thank god for you. Honestly."

They embraced. The feeling of being close was, at least to Victor, bittersweet.

"Hey... now that we've gotten our fair share of caffeine, let's freshen up."

* * *

They went to bed, feeling toasty and relaxed after the shower. Again, they fit perfectly. Like two pieces of a puzzle.

"I think I'm going to fall asleep. It's like I never had any coffee." Yuuri's voice was low, barely audible. He was a few paces away from entering the realm of blissful oblivion.

"Yuuri, I'm sick." _What?! What did you just do?!_

As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, he wanted them back. He wasn't ready, even aware, so why did they just appear like that, out of thin air? It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He could feel him stiffen up. Slowly turning around, making a hundred and eighty-degree turn until he faced him.

"What?" Disbelief. Like he'd heard something extremely unlikely. But no fear.

The box had been opened, it was definitely too late to catch and put back the things that had escaped. He decided to continue, make it as good as possible. If there ever was such a way.

"I'm sick."

"What do you mean 'sick'? Are you joking?" Now, there was fear. No, fear wasn't going be enough to describe the sound of his voice. It was one small breath away from being a raging, relentless panic.

"I'm not. I... you know, how I've been tired, not being able to practise? Never getting rid of that cold?"

No answer. Just shivering brown eyes, desperately trying to be steady. Trying to imbibe every single detail about what he said and was going to say. Trying to figure out if this was real or just make-believe.

"Thing is, I went to the doctor twice. I told you this. The second time, they did some tests. That part was actually true. The first time, though, they..." _No. Please. I can't take this!_

Tears. They were welling up, making his eyes glossy. Escaping him in an instant. Falling heavy against the pillow. No amount of blinking would make them disappear. They kept on coming, following the exact trail of the ones that came before.

Instinctively, he had to touch him. He put his fingers against his cheek, catching some salty droplets as they tumbled down. At first, they felt cool but then the feeling disappeared altogether as they evaporated from his skin.

He sobbed something. He couldn't hear what it was, but he knew anyway. He knew that the answer would tip him over. There was no going back. Once the question was answered, they would have to adapt to the new truth. Once the question was answered, it would become real. There was no chance holding on to the delightful wish of it all to be make-believe.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

He grabbed him. Pulled him close. Tried to stop him shattering into pieces too damaged to put back together. He could feel the demise of what they had, just a few seconds ago. How it acted like smoke, being visible but impossible to catch. Impossible to hold on to. Slipping through his fingers. Strange how it works, how life can differ so from one heartbeat to another.

"It's cancer, Yuuri."

As it became their new reality, he held on. Tight. Tighter. Wanted his arms to make him understand that he had him. That he wasn't going to lose himself if he wanted to let go. That he could do anything, and still find his way back because... because he was there to guide him. At least for now. And as a sign of complete and utter trust, he did. He broke. Got lost. Fell into something dark and bottomless, with no hope of ever getting out.

As he held on, held on to the quivering, screaming shadow of the one he loved, he realised that he was just as broken. Just as lost. With no hope of ever finding his way out. But he knew he had to. He had to for him.


	9. Year One: Spring, part eight

It was like a dance. Or a lamenting piece of classical music. Just when everything had seemed to simmer down, it started to build again. Ending up in a hurtful crescendo. Then, slowly waning only to start over.

Victor just kept him close. Through the rises and the falls. Wondering how much sorrow, hurt and despair that could fit in that slender body. He didn't want to let him go, fearing what would happen if he did while he was still hurting. Still quaking against his bare chest.

Eventually, it ended. It had felt like an eternity, feeling the quivers, hearing the cries. When it all became still, he felt afraid. Afraid that he was the one who had been left alone. But it was exhaustion that had claimed him, his love, and nothing else. He dared to ease his grip around him in order to see him. That delicate face was now puffy, wet and flared. A painful reminder of what had transpired. Victor felt helpless. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could try in order to ease the pain. He only hoped that being there, being strong and steady, would help him.

He couldn't fully understand the magnitude of Yuuri's reaction, because he still hadn't allowed himself to walk down that path. There wasn't a possibility for him to do so. Not now. Maybe never. He understood now that he'd made the right choice. He would never burden him. Not for as long as he could prevent it from happening.

When Yuuri's breathing became slow and calm, he let him go. Reluctantly. He got out of bed and looked for something to wear. He ended up putting on a track suit, not caring what he looked like. That was a first.

He felt uneasy. Restless. He wanted to get rid of pent-up stress but knew that pushing himself physically would only have the opposite effect. He decided to go outside, go shopping. They had to eat, after all.

* * *

He felt empty, walking up and down the aisles. Not knowing what to do, what to choose or how to even decide. He got recognised, of course, but being approachable was like a second nature to him. The smiles, the openness, the laughs. A flirty touch at the exact right time. All without any effort. Although, right now, all of that wasn't him.

He got some questions. What he thought about Worlds. What it felt like, kissing his student. What were his plans for the next season. He answered them, but they were just vacuous strings of words without any bearing to them. Or, not the second answer. That had been truthful. _It was wonderful._

He humored them with a selfie or two, before he excused himself. Slowly walking back to the place where he wanted to find peace, knowing that it would probably be the exact opposite once he arrived.

* * *

It was silent as he walked in. Still. Like nothing ever happened. No, like everything had happened. The calm after the storm.

He peered into the bedroom. Same position, exactly. Same slow and calm breathing. It was a relief, seeing that. Hearing that. He decided to go and put the things he bought away in the fridge and freezer. Leaving some things out for dinner. _Comfort food. Yes, that's it._ Carbs, fat and round, full flavours. At least this once.

When we was done, he brought the plates to the bedroom. Put one on his side, one on his own. Silently speaking into his ear. Calling him back. Wanting him to join him. Hoping that he would have forgotten some of it, if not all of it. But it didn't happen. It was as if someone had pushed reapeat.

* * *

"We need to go now, Yuuri. They are expecting us."

His whole being showed a resistance. Victor understood why. _It's too soon. The bad will outshine the good today._

"You know," he continued, "we don't have to say anything. About... about me. I can handle it some other time, okay? Let's focus on you, that's why we're going."

Yuuri nodded. He hadn't said much since yesterday.

Victor hunched a little, looking for his eyes that were firmly attached to the floor. It felt good, that millisecond of eye contact. "Okay?"

"Okay."

As they walked outside, Yuuri tugged at the sleeve of his coat. Making him stop.

"Shouldn't... shouldn't we get a taxi instead?"

 _Oh... Already? It has come to this already?_ "Love, it's okay. It's not straining, I promise." He kissed his hair. The first kiss since... Since when? He couldn't remember. "Come, let's go."

They walked side by side. In silence. It felt strange, unfamiliar even. Like they were divided by something invisible that had taken over everything. Something invisible that dictated how they were supposed to be. Victor got lost in thought. _What's more beneficial?_ Doing things the way they'd always done them, or respecting the change? Would it act as a careless diversion to just do the things that came to heart, or was it really sincere?

His thoughts were shot down immediately as Yuuri decided what was best. Best for him. Best for them. The arm that found its way around his waist, the hand that went into the pocket of his trousers made Victor jubilant inside. He dared to put his arm around his shoulders in return, wondering if he should say anything.

"Thank you." It was enough. More than enough.

They crossed the Anichkov bridge. The arena was visible in the distance.

"Are you okay?" In a strange way, he would have loved to hear him say no, ask him if they could go back.

"Yes. I'm okay."

He squeezed him a little bit tighter, offering the only support he could think of. He hoped that it was enough.

* * *

"Hi, you two! Congratulations!" Mila's beaming face was the first thing they saw. "Worlds, huh!"

"Thank you." Yuuri's voice was low. His eyes started to wander immediately.

_Will he keep it together?_

Yakov came up, shook their hands. It was like the old man decided that he wanted to congratulate them formally, before he hugged them both. He gave Victor a pat on the back as they parted. He looked proud.

"Great job, Yuuri. I saw your exhibition too, it was wonderful." Georgi squeezed his shoulder, rustling him around a little. "Seems like Victor isn't that bad a coach! Right, Yakov?" Smiles were exchanged, but not everyone participated.

"Where's Yurio?" Victor had to ask.

Mila pointed to the far end of the rink. He was skating with his headphones on, not paying any attention to anything else than the music and his movements.

"Shall I go get him," Georgi asked.

"No," Yuuri said. "It doesn't matter."

Mila took Yuuri by the hand, and sat down next to him on a bench. "Tell me all about it! What did it feel like, winning your first gold?"

"It... it was..."

_He's breaking apart!_

"Aww, that's so cute. Yuuri's moved! I knew that this would... Hey! What's this?!" She held up Yuuri's right hand, not noticing the effect it had.

Victor did, though. The clenched fists, the head that bowed lower and lower by the second. _Stop this!_

"You're married?! Oh my... Oh my god!"

"What's up?" Yurio's voice, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. He slammed his skate picks into the side of the boards, as he came to a stop. As he made the same discovery as Mila, he frowned. "And look at him, it's like he's disappointed. Imagine being stuck with you, Victor."

"Disappointed? Stop being a brat," Mila said. "He's just overwhelmed!"

Yuuri had retracted his right hand and had his head between his knees. Victor felt a panic well up as he watched him, like it was seeping out of his pores. Taking over him. Making everything move in slow motion. _How to control this? How can I make this okay?_

He hurried to his side and crouched down. Grabbed his hands, whispered in his ear. "We can leave. Come. Let's go." No reaction. "Yuuri?"

His cry echoed across the rink. A wordless cry. A desperate way of getting out all that was suffocating him from the inside. The eruption made everyone else flinch, except the two in its epicentre.

"Victor?" Georgi sounded tense. Not understanding what was happening. Trying to get answers. Demanding them, with his voice alone.

"Was it something I said? I'm sorry!" Mila's eyes were tearing up, affected by Yuuri's sudden lament. Blaming herself as a result.

Yakov walked up to them, put a reassuring hand on Yuuri's back. Trying to make Victor look at him, trying to make sense of what what going on. But he said nothing.

And the little blond, standing with his eyes wide in disbelief. Seeing grief in its rawest form, not understanding it. Feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

"I'm going to tell them, Yuuri. I'm sorry." His whisper was almost a sob. Almost. But he gained control, thankfully. And he told them. Together, they tried to grasp the words that had been spoken. Together, they cried. And together, they understood that nothing was ever going to be the same.


	10. Year One: Spring, part nine

"Thank you, Yakov. I... thank you."

They looked at each other, this coach and student, with the help of the rear-view mirror.

"Don't worry about the dog. I'll keep him as long as you need me to. And, Victor? We... we really need to talk. You know?"

Victor sighed. "I know, Yakov. I hope that everything will calm itself down soon. I... I'm sorry. For telling you, all of you, like this. It's not how I..."

"Will he be okay?"

"I... think so. I hope so. He found out yesterday."

Victor was holding on to Yuuri in the backseat of Yakov's car. He had been inconsolable ever since he unfurled, there at the rink. Now, only sobs and whimpers could be heard from him, but Victor knew. Knew very well how the sorrow orchestrated Yuuri's reactions and emotions. There was going to be another outburst soon enough, and Victor wanted him to be home before it happened.

"How long have you known?" Yakov's voice was stern.

"For three weeks. A little more."

"Three weeks?!"

"I know, please don't lecture me. It's just that it was impossible to do, to say, anything up until now. I wanted him to win, Yakov. He wouldn't have if I'd told him." _And I wanted us to experience that. At least once. Together._

"And you got married too. Victor..."

"I said, do not lecture me! Not now!" _He just doesn't understand._

Yakov frowned. Victor saw it in the rear-view mirror. After a while, his expression softened, and he spoke. "So, what happens now? Are you getting treatment?"

"Starting tomorrow."

"You put that on hold too? Boy... What if it's gotten worse?"

Victor said nothing in response. He looked down at the broken shard that now was Yuuri, thanking some higher power that he couldn't possibly understand the conversation. _Worse, huh? What if it has? Is it even possible?_ He got pulled back to reality as Yakov pulled over.

"Are you going to be okay? Victor, call me. Anytime you need something. Anything. I'll help you. Both you and Yuuri."

Victor leaned forward and squeezed the older man's shoulder. "I will. I promise." He directed his attention at Yuuri. "Come. Let's go. We're home."

* * *

Yuuri felt numb. Detatched. He sensed Victor's hands on him, just barely. It was like his body belonged to someone else and that he was experiencing their interaction from afar. Not being inside himself. But that was Victor's arm around his shoulders, the other holding his hand. He knew it, he was sure of it. Although it felt so distant.

They took the lift up, Victor had loosened his grip for just a moment to press the button. It felt good having him close. Like he was slowly finding his way back with the help of a steady frame around him. He felt afraid, though. He knew what it meant to find his way back. What he wound find, once he did. He recognised the pattern, the dance, from earlier. From the day before. He hoped that he could be lost for just a little while longer.

"Can you take off your shoes?"

_Victor._ His voice sounded from afar, but why? His cheek was almost next to his.

Yuuri managed to kick them off, somehow. He got help removing his jacket. At least, that's what it felt like. He was guided to the sofa, felt a blanket being wrapped around him. And then, arms. And legs too. Being enveloped in something that made him feel safe, if only for a moment.

Hands, stroking his hair. A slow, warm exhale caressed the nape of his neck, again and again. Maybe it would be okay to find his way back. At least this once?

"I'm sorry it ended up like this." He sounded closer now. Not as... turbid? "I'm so sorry for all of this."

_He's sorry? Sorry? Sorry for what?_

There was a shift. In emotions, in presence. He felt... angry? As he started to get dominion over himself, he felt it as a prickle. It became something else, something more. Like a jab, a slash, a rupture. A gushing wound that seeped resentment, hostility and bitterness. The more he came back, the more he found himself, the fiercer the feeling became. He wasn't just angry. He was furious.

He surprised them both as he fought his way out of the coccoon he'd been in. Wrestling away the blanket, struggling to get out of the embrace. No, not embrace. The corporeal cage. Staying close to him had a whole other meaning than a few seconds ago.

"I'm sorry too," he said as he got to his feet. Looking down at him.

He looked beautiful as he sat there, totally caught off guard. The blue eyes wide, in astonishment. The silver hair, messy after being close to him for so long.

"Yuuri?" He sounded guarded. Like he was preparing himself. Like he knew what was to come. He was tense, ready to leap out of the sofa and... _What?_

"I'm sorry too," he resumed. "Sorry for a lot of things." He was boiling. "Like... like how I've let myself being attached to you. Especially now!"

Yes, he was definitely ready to take action. But he said nothing. Remained seated.

"Why would you do that? Tie me closer to you when you know that you're going to leave me?! How can you be so cruel?!"

He got up, to his feet. There was anger in his eyes too. It felt good seeing some kind of emotion course through him. Yuuri had seen no emotions, no outbursts, not up until now. Up until now, he had just been there. Been there without doing anything else than staying close.

"I'm cruel?" Narrowed eyes and a sharpness to his voice. "If you feel tied down, consider yourself lucky! Lucky that neither my country or yours recognise what we have. What we have done. Consider yourself free if it makes you happy! If that's what you want, go ahead!"

He wondered what boomed in his ears. Victor's voice, or the silence that followed afterwards.

The looked at each other, anticipating the next move. Go to arms, admit defeat. Call a truce? As the anger waned, like someone had cut him in the right place for it to bleed out, out of him, he came back. Came back into himself and all that was still within him. All the things that never left. As he felt the tears burn underneath his eyelids, he ran for the bathroom, only to slam the door behind him. Before he slid to the floor, with his back against the door, he locked it. Creating a divide, for no purpose at all.

* * *

He tried to catch up, but he was unprepared. The few paces he had as a head start made all the difference. He thought of calling out to him, calling out to make him stay and not run away but he couldn't make himself. He felt hurt, and he understood that, on the other side of the bathroom door, he was hurting too.

"Yuuri, open up! Open the door!" He felt the handle. _Of course it's locked._

He sat down on the floor, not realising that he was doing the same on his side of the door. Not realising that their backs would be touching if nothing was in between them.

He tried all the possible negotiating tactics he could think of.

He tried to plead. "Please, open the door."

He tried to question. "Why are you doing this?"

He tried to threaten. "If you won't open the door, I'll..."

He tried to overwhelm. "Do you know how this makes me feel?"

As he calmed down, he understood that his tries were unnecessary. He could hear him crying from within. In the same desperate way he'd been crying since yesterday. He understood that he never meant what he'd said. That his words were a reaction, a reaction to the hopelessness, fear and despair that ravaged him. Now, he really wanted to get in there. Be there with him. For him.

He stood up and walked to the kitchen. Got a knife our of the drawer and with it, he managed to unlock the door from his side.

Yuuri sat in the shower, on the other side of the room. Behind the wall of frosted glass. He looked so small, so vulnerable, being curled up with his legs tucked close to his chest. His head buried behind them, as if he was warding himself. Against the outside world, Victor thought. It was painful, yet endearing to see.

He got close. Put a hand on his back just to let him know that he was there. He sat down behind him and took him in. He wanted to try his best to absorb him and all his pain. When he felt his embrace being reciprocated, he understood that he needed Yuuri too. Comforting him made him feel like he was comforting himself in a way.

They went through rises and falls together. They weren't few, but not countless. After a while, Victor decided to investigate if he was there, listening.

"I'm having treatment tomorrow. Chemo. Do you want to come along?"

He was there. He listened. He tried to speak, but it took a while. "I'm sorry. I'm too afraid."

"It's okay. You don't have to."

After a while, his voice was more steady. Not as affected by his exhausted vocal chords. "Treatment, is that the same as a cure? Will you be cured?"

Victor felt cold. That was something he hadn't even thought of asking. He had just assumed that they were the same thing. Hearing Yuuri's question, he realised that he was wrong. There was a difference. A life-depending one.

"I... I really don't know. I don't know, Yuuri."

Yuuri sighed in response.

"All I know," Victor continued, "is that I'm having chemo. Three times a week for a week, then probably three weeks off. It's going to be like this for a while now. Six months, I think they said."

"And... and after?"

"We'll see."

He felt Yuuri's arms tighten around him. _Are you comforting me, now? I love you._

"Anyway... You're not going to slow down, Yuuri. I want you to know that I won't let you. You'll have a break, and then it's Nationals before the race to the GPF and Worlds starts again."

"I can't. Not without you."

"I'll be with you. We'll just have to make it work. Hey..." Victor found his face, tucked in against his chest. He made no effort to hide as he tilted his chin upwards. "It's not contagious, you know."

Their lips met. Soft and tentative, like it was their first time. In a sense, it was. At least as husbands, together in their own home.


	11. Year One: Spring, part ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. You're still alive, I hope! Thank you for reading, commenting and favoriting up until now.
> 
> I understand that this story might be a tough thing to stomach, but I really appreciate you sticking with me. Please, don't be afraid telling me what you think. Now, a short hiatus before the real journey begins. Until then!
> 
> xoxo

 

 

"Welcome, Victor. Good to see you."

"Thank you. Likewise."

"So, I can only assume that you have a lot of questions. We'll get to those, but first, we're going to do an MRI on you. We're going to do one on your chest, but we're also going to do an MRI on your brain today."

"Excuse me?"

"Come, let's talk a little." Popyrin felt around in his pocket and pulled out a keychain. He unlocked the door behind him and motioned Victor to step inside. "Please, have a seat."

Victor did as he was told. His pulse was elevated. _What's this? Do I have something... in there, too?_

"Okay, Victor. This is how it is. The biopsy result showed that you have something we call small cell lung cancer. It's rare, even in adults, and for you being so young... Well, it's not unheard of, but it's extremely rare. This cancer is very aggressive, which is why we're going to give you quite a lot of chemo. Luckily, it responds well to this kind of treatment."

Victor suddenly remembered what Yuuri had asked him, the day before. _'Treatment, is that the same as a cure?'_ He needed to ask, using Yuuri's words. "Doctor, I must ask... Treatment, is that the same as a cure?"

The doctor's eyes narrowed, if only for a second. "Do I understand you correctly if I say that you're asking if you can be cured. As in free of cancer?"

"I... I guess you do."

"Victor, I have to be honest with you. It's a very severe and aggressive form of cancer, okay? People can live for several years after their initial diagnosis, but statistics say that it waries. Mainly because of what kind of stage your cancer is in. You understand? So far, we don't know anything since we haven't done an MRI."

"That's not what I'm asking, though. Is it curable?"

Again, his eyes narrowed. Like he was thinking if it was appropriate to answer the question truthfully, or if the answer should be delivered sanitised. "For most patients, I'm sorry to say, it's not."

"I'm... I'm going to die?"

"We want to prolong your life, give you the best possibilities to live without any symptoms, any pain."

_I'm going to die?! I'm going to die. I am dying._

He felt a hand on his knee. It was supposed to be reassuring, probably, but it wasn't. This was not at all what he'd expected. He'd come for treatment, but got a death sentence instead. The irony of his situation made him feel overwhelmed. He buried his face in his hands, trying to understand. Trying to see if he could steer the conversation away with the use of his mind. Surely, this was a dream. A nightmare. If he only woke up, this wouldn't be a problem.

"I'm sorry." The doctor's voice sounded far away. "Hello? Yes, reschedule him. An hour? An hour and a half. Perfect. Thank you."

* * *

He gave in. Surrendered to the consternation. _This is what pain feels like._ Pain in its very essence. Pain, when you're forced to deal with your own mortality. Pain, when you understand what you're going to leave behind.

Strangely, it felt like an orgasm. The anxiety. The build-up was similar. A tension, growing by the second. Making you wonder how the release would be. Although, he never wanted the release. He wanted to stay in the incline. Fight the increasing agitation instead. But, everything levels out eventually and instead of pleasure, it brought only suffering along with it. Without ever subsiding.

He tried to breathe. It felt impossible, like he was gasping for air through a straw. His head became light. Dizzy. It was hard to see straight, like everything became blurry in an instant. He was quaking in his seat, feeling his body move on its own. It was like he was being pulled by thousands of strings, with some puppet master sadistically contorting him behind the scenes.

"Victor, breathe. Inhale slowly, hold your breath, let it out." He'd heard that before. Earlier today? He wasn't sure. He wanted to do what the voice told him, but it was impossible. "Again, inhale slowly, hold your breath, let it out. You're doing great, one more time."

All of a sudden, it mellowed out. Bringing on tears instead.

* * *

"Would you like something to drink?"

He sniffed, shook his head.

"I'm so sorry, Victor. Hold on I need to take this." Popyrin answered his phone. "Hello? Yes. Yes, I know! He'll be there momentarily. Yes. Bye."

"How can you do this for a living?" Victor's voice was barely audible, he tried to make it loud and clear but he had no strength.

The doctor huffed a little. "I ask myself the same question every day. Ultimately, I want people to be able to live comfortably. Even if they have a serious disease."

He nodded a little. Victor came to an understanding, he liked this person. This doctor, although he had put him through the worst moment of his life.

"Victor, you really need to go and get the MRI done now. We'll talk afterwards. It'll be quite quick. Okay?"

* * *

It was noisy. Slightly claustrophobic. But it was finally done. The contrast had made him a bit woozy, so he got some time to shake it off before he was allowed to get up and put on his clothes.

As promised, Popyrin met up with him. He took him along him see a nurse who took a blood sample before she put an IV catheter into the back of his hand. She flushed it with saline, making sure that it was inserted properly. She was dressed in a plastic apron, gloves and protective goggles as she handled the medication, fastening the bag on a stand. _And that's going inside of me?_

Once Victor had his chemo going, Popyrin took him back to the room where he had ended a chapter of his life. Or rather, started a new one.

"So, Victor... Let's talk. You must have a thousand questions. I just want to tell you about the MRI. The reason we did one of your brain is because this type of cancer easily spreads to other organs. It likes the brain in particular, so that's why we just want to peek inside. Have you had any neurological symptoms?"

"Neurological? Like what?" He felt more composed now. Tired. Almost indifferent.

"Let's see... Have you lost your balance, lost hand to eye coordination, lost strength in your hands? Found it hard finding the words you want to say? Made involuntary movements?"

"No, I don' think... Oh..." _Yuuri made me... no, I've dropped a glass._ "I... might have dropped a glass. Three weeks ago or so. I'm not sure."

"Nothing else you can remember?"

"No."

"It doesn't sound like anything alarming, Victor. We've done the MRI now, so we'll make sure but it really sounds like nothing to be honest." He paused for a moment. "I see you're married now. Congratulations."

Victor felt a smile play over his lips. Briefly. "Thank you. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, although we've talked about it for some time."

"In that case, maybe we should talk about intimacy and chemotherapy. Is that okay with you?"

He nodded.

"So, the most important thing for you to remember is that your own immune system will get wiped out between the cycles, okay? If your wife is sick, say she's got a cold, then don't kiss. As far as intercourse goes, you might have problems procreating some days after a treatment. I don't know if you're planning to start a family or not?"

"We... we haven't thought about it, my husband and I."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise... I'm sorry."

"No... it's okay." _I really like this man._

"Then, let me say it like this. Intercourse when you're on chemo is okay, as long as you're not being penetrated. You understand? Chemotherapy is tough on your body, your mucous membranes. You might bleed easier, and there's a possibility that your thrombocytes, your blood platelets, might get low. That way your blood won't be able to clot. Getting a tear while having sex can be disastrous."

"Do I have to worry about transferring the chemo to him?"

"No, not per se. Use a condom if you're having oral sex until seventy-two hours have passed. Just to be sure. As far as penetrative sex goes, always use one. Especially now. Kissing is okay, but again, you have to be careful since your white blood cells, your immune system, will get obliterated between cycles. Also, I really want to point out that it's important that you try to live life like you've done up until now."

"What about side effects? Won't that make it hard?"

"It might, but we're going to do everything to prevent it. You'll get medicine to prevent nausea, which is probably the most common side effect. Also, it's common to get a dry mouth so drink a lot of water and make sure you stimulate your saliva production during the day. Then, of course, there's the issue of losing hair. That's also common. It can happen everywhere in between two weeks after treatment up to two months. Some people lose some, some people lose all their hair. I even had a patient who only lost his beard and eyebrows, but his hair and eye lashes were intact. It's individual. Sadly, there's nothing to do about it."

Victor sighed a little. Popyrin gave him a pat on the knee.

"Oh, I see you're done. Come, let's go so the ladies out there can unhook you from this thing."

* * *

He decided to walk home. He wanted to clear his head. Before heading home he took out his phone. A message from him.

_From: Yuu~ri!_

_I'm sorry I didn't come with you today. I'll make it up to you. Just come home, and I'll show you. /Y_

_To: Yuu~ri!_

_On my way now. Can't wait to see you. xxx_

_To: Yuu~ri!_

You'll stay with me, right?

_From: Yuu~ri!_

_Until we're parted by death. I love you. Please come home._

He decided to find a taxi instead. He couldn't wait to see him.

**~Year One: Spring~**

**the end**

 

 


	12. Year One: Summer, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Two months. Two months of constantly being tired. Uneasy. Not being able to remain here and now, always thinking of a distressing future. Two months worth of chemo. Another four to go. Victor struggled. Struggled with the MRI-result. Struggled with the urge of breaking down, fearing what the consequences would be if he did. He couldn't afford to do it. Not yet.

It was different between them now. Like they were thinking of the other as fragile. Someone who needed protection against everything. Anything. He tried his best to be strong for him, but he knew that he had started making sacrifices. _He wants to make it easy for me. But it's not. It's not getting any easier. I want him to never stop living his life._

The sacrifices had been small at first. Like always being the one doing the shopping. Carrying the bags home. They fought over it once, but Victor backed down as soon as he understood where it was going. Cleaning. Washing, both clothes and dishes. Also, he took more walks with the dog. Just to let him rest when he was feeling tired.

After a while, the sacrifices became larger. More harrowing. At least to Victor. He'd started saying no to sex. Always giving. Never receiving. Two times in as many months, he'd said yes. Like pleasing him would be straining! Like it would be a problem!

Victor had thought that forbidden thought. That maybe, just maybe, it was because of him. Him slowly losing muscle mass, getting thinner. Getting emasculated more and more, with each passing day. Maybe, he just wasn't as turned on by him any more? He decided to find out. He couldn't stand not being allowed to show him the most intimate ways of appreciation he knew.

* * *

His hands on him felt no different. They spoke the same language as before. Needing him, wanting him. The touches made him feel strong, not fragile. Made him breathe faster. Made him heady. There was nothing bad about this at all. Nothing to be afraid of. _Why can't you give in? Surely, you feel the same way too?_

"Yuuri… let me. Please." His voice was begging, demanding against his neck. He wanted to satisfy him. Just this once, he wanted him to feel good. He wanted him to shrug off any responsibilities and just take whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. He wanted him to be selfish. Be a thoroughbred narcissist.

He pushed him down into the mattress. Too late, he realised that he'd used too much force. Yuuri's eyes were wide, and his hands were around his wrists. _Is he defending himself? Is he afraid? If so, of what?_

"I'm sorry," Victor said. "I got carried away." He released his shoulders, but Yuuri's grip didn't release him. It started a tingle inside.

"I want to. I do. But I… It's…"

"Can we try? Can I try?" _I'm not fragile, Yuuri._

The smallest tug, barely noticeable. Beckoning him to come closer. As they tasted each other, Victor understood that he was saying yes. _Finally._

"Okay?" He needed to make sure.

"Yes."

* * *

Getting his t-shirt off was a joint operation. Their hands met on Yuuri's back. Victor pushing, Yuuri pulling. One of them wanting to expose, the other wanting to let go. Tasting him, his naked skin once the t-shirt was gone, was magnificent. He wanted to savour him, every last inch of him.

He tilted his hips on cue, helping with the undressing. As he appeared before him, being nothing other than himself, Victor felt ignited. He could tell that Yuuri wanted this. He really wanted this. He took him in his mouth, briefly, only to let him go with a sigh as he had to rest his head against his stomach. _Yes. This is what I want._

"Victor?" Concern in his voice. _How endearing._

"Relax. I'm just so turned on. Give me a minute." He searched for his eyes. Seeing his parted lips, his eyes being muddled with desire… it felt like coming home. "I love you. You know that, right?"

His answer was a moan. "I do."

"Just let me take care of you, okay?" He trailed kisses on his stomach, on the inside of his thighs, before placing Yuuri's legs on his shoulders. He sat up, taking him with him. "Relax, Yuuri. Relax your hips, relax your thighs. I'll take care of you."

* * *

He felt his cheeks burn. Of course, he couldn't relax. Hearing Victor telling him to relax, almost made it worse. His shoulder blades were barely touching the mattress once Victor sat up, he felt embarrassed. He felt like a puppet, hanging there almost upside down.

His hands were on his thighs, asking him to loosen up. Stroking him, slowly. Trying to reassure him. Yuuri decided to try. He eased up, got rid of the tension. Allowed the back of his knees to curve over Victor's shoulders.

"There you go. Feels better now, doesn't it? Let me and gravity handle the rest."

And with those words, he began. Softly, teasingly. Then, with more resolve. Feeling his hands on the small of his back, pulling him close then letting go… Yes, he and gravity were taking good care of him.

He felt it build up inside. That fantastic uphill sensation, the fantastic race to the very edge before the anticipated drop. He reached for him, he had to have his hands in his hair, as he felt himself coming closer.

* * *

_He's almost there. Give it to me. Let me taste you._

And… a foot against his chest. Pushing him away.

"No, Victor, no! Stop!"

He let go of him with a slurp, feeling surprised. He eased him off of his shoulders.

"Yuuri? What happened?"

He had turned around, his face hidden by the pillows.

_He's shaking?_ "Hey! What's wrong?" _He's crying!_

"I… I just knew… I just… No!"

"Yuuri, come on. Hey, turn around. Please?" He touched his back, trying to convince him.

"I… can't. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Victor took hold of his shoulders and tried to turn him around. He wanted to understand what all this was about. Yuuri struggled, fought against him. Like a prey in the claws of a predator. And, like a prey, he finally gave up. Gave in as he allowed himself to be turned around. Immediately, Victor knew. He knew what it was about, but he needed to see. Needed to make sure in order to accept the inevitable. In Yuuri's clenched fists were two tufts of silver hair.

* * *

Of course, he wanted to break. He wanted to give up, just forget about everything and just... end it. But, it wasn't because of the hair. It was because of him. The things he, the person he so desperately loved and so desperately wanted to protect from all this hurt, had to endure because of him. It was something he just couldn't bear.

He yanked him into his arms. Held him as tight as he possibly could. Hating everything about the situation, hating himself. Hating the fact that this was a moment when he saw a very important bridge being burned, hating the fact that he didn't know how to cross the gap anymore. An already volatile situation had become even more unstable, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Yuuri." He sighed, tried to get in control. He felt his exhale vibrate a bit, being disgustingly close to tears. "This has nothing to do with you. It would have happened anyway." _But it's so fucked up that it happened now. When we finally got close. When he finally relaxed. A goddamn punishment, that's what._

He kissed his shoulder. Inhaled the scent of him. "Tomorrow, we're getting a trimmer. No need to keep it if it's just going to fall off anyway. Right?"

No answer, just a small shudder against his bare chest.

"Love, are you going to keep it? If not, give it here and I'll toss it away."

Yuuri sniffed before a barely audible 'no' was heard.

"Mhm, fine. I'm going to take a shower and then, we'll go to sleep. Okay?"

Yuuri nodded.

He let him go. Gave him a kiss on the cheek before collecting the fistfuls of hair from him. He made sure not to look at it. He pretended that it was something else that he was supposed to dispose of, as he walked to the kitchen and dropped it into the bin.

He walked into the bathroom. Made sure that he'd locked the door behind him. He turned on the water and gave himself a look in the mirror. _It doesn't show. Yet. Thank goodness._

As he studied his reflection, he felt weak. His knees were shaking. He just had to sit down. And as soon as he sat down on the toilet seat, he felt it. It's coming. He reached for his towel and buried his face in it as the sensation came at him like a brick wall. Making him crash into it with full force. He shattered, cried out his agony and despair. Cried out his anger and disgust. Hoping that the towel and the running water would make everything seem okay. At least to the outside world.

* * *

"Just do it, Yuuri."

They were together in the bathroom, Victor standing in front of the mirror with Yuuri standing behind him. Yuuri was hesitating. He had to be convinced to come along, had to be convinced to help him now that they were home.

"It feels so wrong, Victor." There was sadness in his eyes. Concern in his voice.

"I know. Come on, let's get it over with."

Yuuri sighed. A moment after, the buzzing sound of the trimmer was all that was heard. It made a different sound with every stroke against Victor's head.

It felt strange, seeing the hair fall into the basin. Silently, softly. Like snow, he thought. He remembered when he cut his hair before. All in the name of reinvention. And now? All in the name of… he wished he could come up with something smart, something poetic. But he realised that all it had to do with was his own vanity.

"Don't look," Yuuri said once they were done. "Stay there."

Victor heard him walk off. It sounded like he went past the bedroom, into the closet. Once Yuuri returned, he had a box with him. Gift wrapped and all.

"I… kind of knew that this would happen. Although I never wanted it to. It still feels strange, and now, seeing you, I… Anyway, I bought something for you. Here." He presented the gift. There was a small smile on his lips. It wasn't really conveying joy, Victor thought as he accepted it. More like… pity?

He opened the present, and in it, was a knitted black beanie. Slightly oversized. Absolutely perfect. He pulled Yuuri close in a warm embrace. Kissed his neck, his cheek, his lips. He felt emotional, for a lot of reasons.

"Thank you. This is why I married you. You surprise me in ways I never thought possible."

As they caught a glance of each other in the mirror, the both of them thought the moment was special. _Special. Just like you and me._


	13. Year One: Summer, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

It felt strange, scooping up the hair. Throwing it away. Like something about him was wrong. Like he was rejected. Last night was still fresh in his memory, when he was pushed away. When he'd actually been rejected. He realised what it must have been like for him. Getting fistfuls of hair in every grab. The panic he must have felt. But it didn't help him, didn't make him feel less turned down. How do you approach anyone with these thoughts? How can you bring them up without putting your heart on the line, with the fear of being shot down?

He knew that he had to bring this to him. See if there was any truth to his dark fantasies. If he couldn't have him in all the ways like before, then… No, just fantasies.

"Yuuri?" Victor walked to the kitchen with the plastic bag containing his hair, shoving it in the bin.

"I'm here." His steps sounded close, and not before long, his arms were around him. He sighed against his back.

"Can we talk?"

"Mhm."

"Here? Sofa? Bed?"

"Anywhere is fine."

Victor turned around, caught him and held him against his chest as he did. He rested his chin on top of his head, thinking about how to say things. What he wanted to say without it being judgemental, clingy or accusing.

"I'm sorry. I just got so scared last night."

_Beaten to the punch._ "Yeah. I noticed." He nuzzled his hair. "You know, I was hurt yesterday. I… I have been trying to be with you, and it's like something's in the way. Like there's fear here, all of a sudden."

"I am afraid." His voice was low, too low for Victor to hear.

"Sorry?"

"I AM AFRAID, okay?!"

Victor jolted, surprised by the change in volume.

"Victor, of course I'm afraid. I'm afraid to lose you. So horribly afraid. But the one thing that scares me the most is… I mean… What if you'll suffer? Down the road. What if you… oh, sorry…" He dried his eyes with his sleeve. "What if you'll lose all your dignity? I don't want you to. I want you to be you! I don't want anything to be taken from you, and yesterday it was! When I felt it coming off, I just… it was horrible."

Victor kissed his forehead. Encouraging him to go on, even though his words hurt.

"Victor, I… know what it means. Your cancer. I know that it's wrong, but I've googled it. What it means, the staging, the li… life expectancy. Aren't you afraid?"

Victor felt a sadness inside. _Of course he had to google it. That's how he works, dealing with things. He reads up on things, trying to get all opinions on something before chiseling out his own. Slowly taking in a small piece at a time, making sure that he can handle it. Making sure that he can understand it, before he takes on something new._

And of course, Victor was afraid. Petrified, even. ' _The five year survival rate is two percent, with small cell lung cancer in stage IV. The two year survival rate, anywhere in between five to thirteen percent.'_ The doctor's words echoed in his head, on a daily basis.

"Of course. Of course I'm afraid." It felt like a defeat, telling him this. "But does it mean that I, or we, should stop living until then? No. I won't accept it! I don't want that for you! I miss you, you know. The way it was before, what we had. It's only been two months, Yuuri. I can already see a change." He paused. _And not for the better._ "I want more of you. I need more of you. But you're pulling away, not letting me be with you the way I want to. I feel rejected, somehow."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't ever tell me you're sorry. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. I just want to know… Why are you pushing me away? Why can't you allow yourself to feel appre..." _Oh._

Yuuri backed away. Broke the embrace but stayed close. He held on to Victor's arms. He was tearing up, looking away. Looking anywhere, but not at him.

Victor tugged at his shirt, asking him to come closer. _I understand now, Yuuri. I do._ He fell into him with a sob. Victor was quick to welcome him. One hand in his hair, the other on his back. Holding him as close as he possibly could.

"You don't have to suffer, just because you think I am. You feel your own pain, you don't have to share mine."

* * *

Hearing him come to that conclusion, it was soothing. That was exactly how it was, although he never tried to dress it in words. Of course, he was feeding off him. Channeling him, his energy, his mood.

Most of the time, he could sense it in Victor. That he was feeling miserable. Tired. Sick. Yuuri had decided for himself to try his best to ease his burden, no matter what. He'd taken more responsibility, just for the sake of his well-being. Gave him rapture without asking for anything in return. He never took into consideration that Victor might have been thinking the same. He wanted to ease _his_ burden, add to _his_ well-being.

It felt strange to Yuuri. How Victor could see past his own problems and focus on him, asking him with his body and soul if he wanted to escape. If just for a little while. And suddenly, Yuuri felt bad. Victor had been trying, desperately trying for the last two months to convince him that it was okay. That it was okay to feel good, that it was okay to forget about it all in the heat of the moment. Trying to tell him that he wouldn't be bad if he did. He would only be loved if he accepted the offer.

Somewhere, deep inside, it felt wrong. Wrong to partake in pleasure, especially if it was offered from him. But yesterday, he'd wanted it. Once he understood that it was okay, that it was okay to feel aroused in a situation where a lot of things eventually would be so very different, he'd relaxed. But it was jarring, feeling the sensation of the approaching ecstasy, letting it wrap itself all around him only to end up with hair in his palms.

That night, he had a nightmare. Dreaming that he was tearing out big chunks of flesh instead of hair. When we woke up, gasping for air and drenched in sweat, he knew that it would be hard to get back to what was before. Looking at Victor, sleeping soundly next to him and not looking distressed nor sick, he knew he wanted to go back. He wanted to meet him again, somewhere were they both could find deliverance. But he felt a panic bubble up inside. He didn't know how to find his way.

* * *

They'd decided to go to Japan. To Hasetsu. Stay for a month, maybe more. Get started on Yuuri's new season without having to see the concerned looks on the faces of their rink mates. Victor would have been okay with staying in Russia, but he couldn't stand seeing Yuuri turn into a wrung-out cloth after every trip to the rink. He cared too much about what other people thought, what they projected when they saw them together. The faces of pity, sadness and insecurity.

"Is it wise, Victor?" Yakov frowned when he told him of their plan.

"Yes, it is."

"Treatment and so on, then? You can't be away for more than a month in a row now, can you?"

"I'm having my last day chemo tomorrow, and I'm supposed to take pills if we're there for more than a month. Not as potent apparently, but it'll be fine." His eyes travelled to Yuuri, doing basic figures on the far side of the rink. "We have to do this, just for a while."

"I'm worried about you, Vitya."

"Oh? This came out of nowhere!" He adjusted his beanie with a wink.

"Stop being smart, boy. I… understand that you probably won't be able to skate competitively," Yakov paused and rubbed his nose, "for some time, but… I'll be here for you. I'll always be here for you."

"I know, Yakov. Thank you."

Victor was surprised to feel Yakov's arm around his shoulders.

"Don't tell the others," Yakov whispered into his ear, "but you've always been my favorite student."

Victor smiled. A genuine smile that made him surprised too. He never thought that he had some of those left in him these days. "That's no secret, though!"

"I've been meaning to ask you, Vitya, but I don't know if it's appropriate?"

"You don't have to ask, Yakov. I know where you're going with this. In all honesty, I wish I could say yes, that it'll be okay. But… it's not. It's not going to be okay. For now, though, I feel decent. I…" Victor was interrupted by Yakov struggling to find a hankie in his coat pocket, whereupon he blew his nose. "I just hope that we'll be able to keep the momentum for a little while longer, that's all."

"You're not only an amazing student, you're an amazing coach too."

"Stop, Yakov. You're going to make me cry." Victor stood up, directed his attention to Yuuri again. "Yuuri! From the top, just like we discussed! We're done slacking off!"

It was a pivotal moment, for the both of them. The fight had only just begun.


	14. Year One: Summer, part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

A little less than a week later, it was time. Victor went through his mental checklist. Yakov had picked up Makkachin, they were almost done packing, he had his medication… Seemed like everything was under control.

"So, Yuuri, about telling your family…"

"No, I still haven't said anything."

"Anything about… anything?"

"No. I told mom. About you. But not about us."

Victor felt his heart do a double-take. _Thank you. Thank you for that. We can still have something to look forward to._ "I see. How did she take it?"

"She cried. Naturally. She doesn't know everything, but… well, you know."

Victor sighed. This affected everyone around him, relentlessly. Made everyone feel for him. Fear for him. There was no way around it, sadly. Not without being dishonest.

"I'm sorry. You should've said something."

"No, it's… it's okay."

Victor decided to drop it, and steer the conversation somewhere else. "How are you feeling? About going to Hasetsu?"

Yuuri grew silent. Victor wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a smile. Just briefly.

"You know what," Yuuri said, "I'm looking forward to it. Not just to see my family and friends but… No, I have a good feeling about this trip."

"Hey, was that a smile I saw just now?"

"I believe it was." Yuuri stood up after he zipped up his bag, meeting Victor's eyes. "I can't wait to get there."

* * *

Yuuri's slow and steady breaths were usually very soothing and sleep-inducing, but not today. Victor felt uneasy. He just couldn't relax, couldn't fall asleep. After trying desperately for something that felt like an eternity, he gave up.

He had Yuuri's head against his shoulder, feeling the small, hot huffs against his neck as he exhaled. He glanced at him. He looked at peace. _Going to Japan is definitely the best decision for us right now. He needs this break. Maybe… maybe I do too. I hope it'll… mend things between us. Somehow._

He fished out his phone. They had been travelling for fourteen hours already, and he hadn't even dozed off once. Suddenly, he felt it. It was creeping up on him, slowly. _I think I'm going to throw up!_

The nausea induced by getting chemo hadn't really been a problem. Not until now. He had been very liberal with the medication ever since he got it, dreading the feeling. Dreading situations like this.

"Yuuri, please!" He put an elbow in his side, took hold of his shoulder with his free hand. "You have to move!" Yuuri shifted a little in his seat, not really waking up. _Remind yourself next time; Never sit by the window._

Victor leaned forward, desperately looking for an air sickness bag. He wasn't going to make it. The idea of standing up, walking to the lavatories… he could just as well walk to Japan. It felt insurmountable. The feeling of his saliva getting thick, impossible to swallow, made him panic. He could feel his body fight against him, tensing up, getting ready to purge. _Where the hell is that bag?!_

He found it just in time, cowering in the corner as he felt his body cramp up.

* * *

Yuuri woke up with a jolt. It took him a little less than a second to realise what was going on.

"Victor! Are you okay?!"

He grabbed his jacket, using is as a curtain to give Victor some privacy. It had the opposite effect, since the flight attendants stopped next to their seats. Started to ask questions. Was he sick? Too much to drink? Did they need assistance in any way? Some water, maybe? Was he going to be okay?

Yuuri felt overwhelmed. He accepted a bottle of water, politely declining everything else. As he heard that Victor was dry-heaving next to him, he put away his jacket and scooted closer. Put his arm around him carefully.

"Can I get you anything?" He was hurting inside. This was the first time he'd actually seen him being sick during this whole process. At least, to his knowledge. It was like it became real again. Talking about it, reading about it… it never made any difference. Seeing it, experiencing it however… _Just like that time, his hair…_ Yuuri rubbed Victor's back a little. Trying to make it better. He wasn't sure if he did it for himself or for Victor.

As Victor started to unfurl, he took the bag from his hands and went to dispose of it. When he returned, Victor was leaning back in his seat. His eyes were closed, he breathed heavily. Yuuri immediately felt worried.

"How are you doing? Darling?"

Victor opened his eyes as he heard the loving epithet. "I'm fine. A bit queasy." He smiled. "Thank you."

"Can I get you anything?"

"In your bag, the pills. For the nausea. I must have forgotten to take one."

Yuuri opened the overhead compartment and pulled out his backpack. "Which one is it?"

"The blue carton. It says 10 mg on it."

"That's for the nausea?"

"That's it. Thanks."

He handed the carton over and watched Victor as he swallowed a pill with some water. He sat down, putting his backpack underneath the seat in front of him instead.

"I'm so sorry. I don't want you to go through this."

"It's nothing, Yuuri. Don't worry."

Feeling Victor rubbing his hand made him feel weepy. He leaned in and kissed his jaw, inhaling his scent. Feeling angry, suddenly. _Why is it that you're always ending up comforting me?_

* * *

"Before we go in, give me your ring, okay?"

Victor looked at Yuuri. "You really want it to be a surprise, huh? I love it!" He paused. "You're not going to lose it, right?"

"Hey, that's mean! Of course I won't, I'll guard it with my life!"

"Oh, in that case…" Victor slid his wedding band off his finger and gave it to Yuuri. "Remember, your life depends on it. If you lose it, I'll make you pay."

They laughed. Together. It was a wonderful feeling.

"I've missed this."

"Me too. So, shall we go inside?"

They came through the entrance. It was still. They removed their shoes, and Yuuri made the customary greeting before they stepped up from the genkan, into the inn. Into Yuuri's childhood home.

Not before long, steps could be heard. Soon enough, they were greeted by familiar faces. It was moving, seeing them together, Victor thought. Seeing Yuuri be welcomed back by his parents. Hugging him, touching him, bonding with him. Not really saying much, but reacquainting with him nonetheless.

And then, they turned to him. Welcoming him, taking him in. Hiroko, with eyes wet from unshed tears. Toshiya, with respect and warmth. Saying things he couldn't understand. But the message was clear. They were thanking him. Thanking him for taking care of their son. Thanking him for fulfilling his dreams. Thanking him for making him all that he could possibly be. But also, they were consoling him. Comforting him. Trying to make him understand that they knew, that they wanted him to shed his responsibilities and worries for as long as he stayed.

Victor suddenly felt thankful. Thankful for being taken in so lovingly by the Katsuki family. Thankful for being given an opportunity to breathe. Thankful for being allowed to escape into a bubble of make-believe once more. Thankful for seeing a comfort, a change in Yuuri. Seeing him smile.

Yes. Coming here was a great decision.

* * *

Yuuri's childhood bedroom. Last time he was here, they had been sleeping separately. And now, together. It felt like they'd reached a full circle, somehow.

The old bed was gone. Instead, futon mattresses were on the tatami floor. To accommodate the both of them. But it wasn't necessary with two, not tonight. They were curled up together, as close as they possibly could.

"Feeling okay?" Victor whispered.

"Yes. Very much so. And you?"

"Mhm." He sifted his fingers through Yuuri's hair, feeling relaxed by the endless repetitions. "I love your parents, you know."

"They love you too. I hope you know that."

"I do. It's hard to miss."

"Will you be able to sleep tonight?"

"I don't know… Hate travelling in this direction. Are you sleepy?"

"Hm… a little. But you know, I… was thinking. I have been thinking, about a lot of things."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And I've come to a conclusion of sorts. I think. I think that I'm lost right now, in a lot of ways, but I'm hoping that this, coming here, will make me find myself. At least somewhat."

Victor kissed his hair. Not daring to speak in fear of making Yuuri lose his train of thought.

"But there's something I can't figure out on my own. Coming here will make it easier, I think, but it won't solve everything."

He turned around to face him. His brown eyes were indeed calm, at ease. Victor felt very self-conscious when he touched his face, his head, but he kept looking at him. Barely seeing his own reflection in his eyes.

"I want you to help me. Make me find my way." He got out of his t-shirt. "Not tonight, but… soon. I want it to be like it used to. If it's possible."

Victor laughed. Or sobbed, he wasn't sure. He was feeling relieved, somehow. This would be a great opportunity for them to heal, to be with each other and create new memories. Memories that would be important for them down the road.

They kissed, feeling drunk on each other. Relishing the other's hands, exhales and closeness. But leaving it at that. Making sure that they were to find and choose the right path to tread.

Victor had been preparing himself. He was ready to take him in, make him enter his bubble. But it dawned on him, then and there, that it might not be necessary after all. Maybe they wouldn't have to play make-believe.


	15. Year One: Summer, part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

It was like he was starting to bloom. Again. Coming back to Japan woke something within him. Like a new level of confidence. A calm. Something that made his every movement on the ice seem effortless. Self-assured. Unafraid. He had evolved.

Victor smiled when he remembered coming to Hasetsu for the first time. How that awkward, insecure, but incredibly talented skater had been struggling with understanding and embodying the concept of love. Trying desperately to convey it through his skating, but making extremely puerile attempts when searching for the feeling. It felt like lightyears ago.

Now, it all looked so obvious, so evident. He carried it within him and he had no problems channeling either love or sex appeal. It was like flipping a switch. Like he had a totally different access to those feelings and expressions. At least on the ice. How his face went through the changes his body was illustrating, it was amazing to see.

They had started to find a feel for his free skate in St. Petersburg, trying to see what stories he wanted to tell. Yuuri had difficulties explaining, but that was nothing new. Victor wasn't worried. Yuuri usually spoke through his skating, once he figured it out.

Although he skated with a new understanding of himself, of his emotions and ways of expressing them, something else was shining through today. Making him frustrated. Making him sloppy. Victor could tell, standing in the middle of the rink, intently watching his every move.

"Stop! Stop what you're doing and get over here!" He waited until he came closer, there was no need to scream because they were alone. "Tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Nothing." He wiped his brow with his sleeve, looking him in the eye.

"You're a very bad liar, you know. You made the entries wrong, you popped both of them down there. And what was that, not elongating your lines at all? You are trained in ballet, you know better. I'm not getting anything from you right now."

"It's nothing, really. I just got annoyed, that's all."

"Annoyed? Use it to your advantage, then. Let it fuel you for all I care, but you're not allowed to do something half-assed like that. Okay?" _Oh? He frowned?_

Yes, he looked annoyed. Even more so when Victor had pointed it out. He became curious.

"Hey, tell me. What's stopping you from doing your job like you're supposed to?" _Just a little push. Where will you take me?_

"Stop it." There was a sharpness to his voice. He didn't like being pressured. Not right now.

"No, you stop it. Tell me, or training's over." He said it with a smile. He felt stupid making a thing out of it, but it was obvious, so very obvious, that something was making him underperform. He knew too well what it could become if it wasn't resolved quickly.

"I'm holding myself back." He looked away as he said it. He was speaking the truth, but not all of it.

 _That's interesting._ "Why? That's not a thing we do when we skate, you know that. It's crippling."

"I just need to. I can't let it out right now."

_'Holding myself back?' 'Can't let it out?' That means he's hiding something within, something he's afraid of or… something he doesn't want me to see?_

Victor got closer, moving carefully. He didn't want to slip. He liked the fact that they were about the same height when he wasn't wearing skates. It was… sexy. He took hold of Yuuri's elbows, letting him know that he wanted an answer this time.

"You know you can't keep this up. Not for long. What's gotten into your head?"

* * *

Yuuri hated when their conversations ended up like this. With Victor pushing, prodding, demanding. His mind started to wander, trying to find the reason to his annoyance. It was as if it had been planted sometime during the day, only to sprout during training.

He went over the day, as he remembered it. They had woken up, not really making an effort to get out of bed until after an hour or so. They had breakfast, then a shower. No, it probably didn't happen during the morning.

After lunch? Maybe. They had walked into town before heading to the rink. Yes, now he remembered. It was during the walk to the rink. What did he say?

_'Next season, I think you should…' That's right. Next season._

Why? Why was it that he never seemed to remember how dire his situation, their situation, actually was? It was as if he seemed to embrace it at times, but come the next heartbeat, it was all forgotten again.

Yuuri couldn't stand it. Hearing him making plans for him, it made him panic. He didn't know if Victor was including himself in them. He was afraid to ask. Hearing the answer, that he might plan things for them together, would make it feel so much worse.

Maybe it was silly of him, getting all riled up because of something he said with no particular afterthought, but the small things stuck with him. Burrowed their way into him, deep inside. Adding to a collection of fears and forbidden thoughts.

It was too early to talk about it. The collection's crown jewel. The definitive end. What they thought about it. What would happen afterwards, if anything could. But it was always there, the thought of it. Looming, with a terrifying presence. Hacking away, ever so slowly, at cornerstones keeping them up.

And, again. Why was it impossible for Victor to acknowledge that? The elephant in the room.

"Am I selfish," he finally asked.

Victor looked confounded. It was if he was thinking if he dared to dip his feet into that pool the conversation was threatening to become. When he finally spoke, it was with warmth. "You are a lot of things, but you're never selfish."

Yuuri met his gaze. He came closer, standing but an eyelash away. The energy was different now. The coach-student roles they usually had when on the ice were gone, now they were exploring another territory. He swallowed, instinctively. He wasn't sure if he wanted to continue.

"You," Victor said as his hand touched Yuuri's cheek, "are amazing. You're a fighter. You're tenacious. But you're also fragile. I love that about you. You let your thoughts get ahead of you. I love that too. But the thing you are, the thing I love most of all about you… You want to know what that is?"

Yuuri leaned into his hand. Feeling the soft touch and the warmth. Finding comfort in it. He put his own hand over his, closing his eyes for a second as he wanted desperately to record this particular feeling within him somewhere.

Victor's other hand found its way to his cheek. Yuuri felt a quiver inside. _Is this 'that kind' of a moment?_

"You're everything I'm not."

Simple words. Coming straight from the heart. It's usually those words that make an impact. The ones that goes through and through. Leaving you with a different kind of understanding.

In that moment, Yuuri got a glimpse of it. A small clue to understanding Victor, his way of dealing with himself and what was to come. Yuuri felt thankful for that moment, although nothing explicitly had been said. It was more of an epiphany. _You're everything I'm not._

And it was true. In the opposite direction, at least. With every worry, Victor was a comfort. With every desperate try of staying here and now, he wandered, taking him along. With every fear, he became a strength. With every uncertainty, he delivered a truth. What he gave Victor in return, he didn't know. But he hoped that he offered something as sustaining, something as empowering.

"Is… is that good?" It was all he could think of saying.

"It's all I can ever ask for." He put his forehead against his. Just for a moment, before getting back to the question that had sparked everything. "So, love. What's on your mind?"

"It's… it's nothing really. Not anymore."

"Oh?" He wasn't entirely convinced, Yuuri could tell. But, he wasn't pushing anymore.

Maybe he understood it too? That their way of dealing with each other was like a dance. When the other needed to rest, the other took the lead. Leaving them with his way of approaching things, solving things. Turning every dance into a different experience.

It wasn't strange at all, it made perfect sense. That's why their walk to the rink had been getting to him. Victor had the lead, guiding him as he saw fit. Instead of following, he had resisted him. Making the dance end in discord. He wanted to be able to follow him, without any fear or reservations. But he realised that it would take courage. Something he wasn't sure he possessed.

* * *

They got a second dance. It was hard to tell what started it. The talk? The touching? The shift in energy? Maybe it was the novel understanding of each other? It came to them, naturally.

This time, they both wanted to lead. Strived to step into the crescendo without hesitation. It was cramped, contorted and slightly painful. Of course, the dance was a passionate one.

Yuuri gave in, let Victor take control. Trusting him that he would make the right choice, take the right path. Hoping that he would tread lightly and lead him softly by the hand.

It didn't work.


	16. Year One: Summer, part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

The walk home was excruciating. Neither of them said anything, there wasn't anything to add. Again, they had failed. Failed to meet each other. Failed to go the same way. It wasn't anyone's fault really. They both knew that. If anything, each one blamed himself and not the other.

It was enough to create a rift between them, slowly but surely. Yuuri ended up focusing on things he could do off the ice instead, seeking refuge in Minako's ballet studio. Declaring, without hostility, that he needed to work on his form, body control, and strength. Victor, on the other hand, became more introverted, guarded, even though he still craved Yuuri's closeness.

It was as if they were living separate lives, all of a sudden, only really getting close when they went to bed. Then, they touched. Then, they kissed. But it was with restraint. They were both suffering, but not daring to disrupt the already toppled balance by bringing it up.

After three weeks in Japan, spending roughly two of them living beside each other but feeling alone, Victor felt himself closer to the breaking point. He had been trying to give Yuuri space, trying to accept the time he needed to himself, but it was a strife. He would have gone through anything Yuuri would throw his way, if he only knew exactly where they had each other.

"So, it's tonight then," Victor asked while watching Yuuri dress.

"Mhm. I told them that they could go there with you."

"You're not coming home before? We're not going there together?"

Yuuri scoffed. "I told you, I'll be at the studio. I'll walk there myself."

"Yuuri…" _Why are we acting like this?_ "Okay, fine."

Yuuri turned around, his hair all tousled after sleeping and pulling clothes over his head. He inhaled, took a deep breath. "That was uncalled for. I'm sorry." His eyes said a whole lot more.

"Come." Victor motioned him to get closer. As he did, he held on to his hips. Gently, leaving him the opportunity to break free and gain space if he wanted to. "We need to break out of this soon. You know that, right?"

Yuuri averted his eyes. But still, he put his hands on him, squeezing his shoulders slightly. Coming closer, with every second, until he had his arms wrapped around him. It felt sincere, Victor thought.

"I do. And I'm sorry." He paused, sighed against his shoulder. "See you tonight."

"See you then. Do well today."

* * *

They walked together into town. Victor and Yuuri's family. Mari had been away when they first came to Hasetsu, but the family was now complete.

They tried to engage in small talk, but it wasn't going too well due to the language barrier. Still, Victor could appreciate spending time with them, laughing at the misunderstandings and charades as everyone tried to get their point across. _They are wonderful people. Just like him._

They had decided on a traditional Japanese restaurant for the occasion. Victor and Yuuri's family were the first to arrive, so they ordered drinks whilst waiting for him. Victor could almost sense him before we walked in, he hurried to meet him at the entrance.

"I've missed you today."

"I'm sure I've missed you more. At least today."

"So," Victor lowered his voice, "now, or later?"

"I don't know. What do you think?" Yuuri took off his shoes.

"No, this is for you and for them. You decide."

"Later, then? After we've eaten?"

"Sounds good. Just… tell me when, okay?" He touched his cheek, lingered a bit. "Come, we've been waiting for you."

* * *

The evening was nothing but amazing. An evening of food, drinks and affinity. There was nothing there to dampen the mood. Victor loved it. This is exactly how he wanted it to be, for Yuuri.

As they started to finish their meal, Yuuri shifted in his seat. He leaned in and whispered, making sure that his words were not to be overheard. "Give me your hand." He reached into the pocket of his jeans, trying his best not to be conspicuous. "It's engraved now. Just like we talked about."

"Thank you." Victor felt the cool on his finger. It was back where it was supposed to be. "So, what now?" His voice was low too, following Yuuri's lead.

"I… It's okay if I speak Japanese?"

"Of course!"

"I'll tell you later, what they said and… yeah. Okay?"

"Go ahead." Victor smiled. Again, it was one of those genuine ones he rarely had access to.

" _Mom? Dad? Sis? I… Victor and I would like to tell you something."_ He paused, trying to read the mood. When he felt brave enough, he continued. " _As you know, Victor and I, well, we're not just coach and student. We… love each other. To us, that's everything, the most important thing we've ever experienced. I'm not going to talk about what the future might bring, but I want to talk about us. Here and now."_

Victor propped himself up a little, his hand against his cheek. Watching Yuuri trying to find his words. He sounded nervous, even though Victor couldn't understand him. _You're doing great, Yuuri. Just take your time. Make sure you tell them exactly what you feel._

" _It's a bit sudden, no actually, it's a bit late, but I'd like to tell you this anyway."_ He reached for Victor's right hand underneath the table, gave it a squeeze. " _In April, after Worlds, we… Victor and I, we got married. We got married in America."_ Yuuri illustrated the fact by showing his right hand, and did the same with Victor's right.

Of course, they became overjoyed. It was amusing to Victor, seeing the gradual shifts in their faces. From somewhat neutral to surprised to… jubilant, almost. He felt happy to be a part of this family.

" _Also,"_ Yuuri continued after the laughs, cheers and tears had simmered down, " _I'd like to speak directly to Victor."_ He cleared his throat. "Victor, I'm going to say something to you now. You won't understand, but I'll tell you later. Tonight. When we're alone."

* * *

He took a deep breath. He was mentally reciting the words he'd been trying to find for a very long time. Hoping that they would do his thoughts and feelings justice.

" _Victor. I remember the first time I saw you. I was twelve, I think. You'd won the Junior Worlds. I didn't realise it at the time, but… I know now that it was love. I followed you, in my end of the world. I studied you. I wanted to meet you._

_"You don't know this, but I've lived my life around you. I named my dog after you. I tried to skate like you. I wanted to be on the same ice as you. The time you came here, to Hasetsu, I had to rip down posters I had in my room. Posters of you. With you standing outside my door, wanting to come in. I was so embarrassed!_ "

He laughed, searched for Victor's eyes. Of course, he couldn't understand him, but it felt like he knew. Maybe, it was because of the sound of his voice, the flushed cheeks and the fidgety hands that couldn't keep still while holding his?

" _Then, it became you and me. Not officially, but as a coach and student. I loved every second of it. I'm… I'm going to say something stupid now so sorry, mom. Dad. Sis. I just wanted it to be you and me. I wanted you to be mine, I wanted you to feel like there could never be anyone else. Anyone else you wanted_.

_"And then, it happened. Somehow! I realised what I felt wasn't me being a fan. It was love. And somehow… you loved me too? And now, you're mine. And I'm yours. Being with you has turned out to be everything I could ever ask for._

_"Victor, I don't know what it'll be like for us, down the road. But I hope that I can… that I can be everything you're not and that you'll be the things that I never will. For as long as we're still breathing, in this world, I want to be with you. I want to remain yours._

" _I thank you. For choosing me. I love you, Victor._ I love you."

He glanced a little to his side. He briefly saw what impact his words had on his family, feeling a bit awkward as it dawned on him that his mom and sister were weepy. At the same time, it made him feel like his family had been given the exact same gift as he had been, when Victor asked for his hand. Exactly what he'd hoped.

" _We'll go ahead of you. See you at home."_

* * *

They were walking back. The summer night was warm. Mostly silent, with the occasional interruption of cicadas chirping.

"They were moved by your speech," Victor finally said. "You must have spoken from the heart."

"I guess I did." Yuuri slowed down, held on to the back of Victor's shirt to make him do the same. "I think I managed to say everything I wanted."

"Good. Care to let me in on it anytime soon?"

Yuuri's cheeks heated up a bit. "Sure. I told them that we got married after Worlds."

"That part I pretty much understood. I was thinking about the other stuff."

"I told you," Yuuri laughed, "when we get home!"

"But I want to know now. Tell me, Yuuri! I only understood the last bit!" He sounded playful. He acted playful too. Trying to dig his fingers into Yuuri's sides, making him squeal with laughter with every assault.

"No, no! That's unfair! You know how ticklish I am!"

It happened fast, a spur of the moment kind of thing. It felt natural. As soon as Yuuri had collected himself, his glasses were removed and soft lips met his. He couldn't help himself. He answered immediately by holding on to the back of Victor's neck, asking for the kiss to become deeper. They eventually broke free, the both of them feeling breathless.

"What happened just now?" Victor's voice was a purr in Yuuri's ear.

"I don't know but… I liked it." _No, I loved it._

"Will you still feel the same once we get home?"

"I might." _I think I will._

* * *

Luckily for them, there were no patrons at Yu-topia. Falling in through the door, they were nothing but eager hands and mouths, not willing to let go for even a second.

Victor's mind was racing, desperately hoping that they would keep the momentum until… Until they both had their fill.

"Tell me," he panted against Yuuri's neck, "tell me what you said. I need to hear what you said."

Yuuri struggled with Victor's shirt and his hungry bites against his own neck and shoulders. He didn't feel like talking. Not now. Not during interactions like this. But he humored him, or tried to at least.

"I said," he inhaled sharply as a playful kiss became a sting on his neck, "that I want to be everything you're not."

They barged through the door to Yuuri's room, barely keeping themselves upright. Yuuri managed to close it with a kick.

Victor sighed, appreciatively. "More."

"I… uh…" Yuuri felt like all the blood in his body rushed to his head. "I said that I, ow! Don't bite! Uh… I said that I never wanted you to settle for anyone else than me." He was silenced by Victor's mouth. A rough kiss that made it difficult for them to contain themselves.

"You're everything I ever asked for, Victor. I said that too. I want to be yours until… until I can't anymore." He felt distracted as Victor unbuttoned his jeans, trying to claw them off with force.

"That's not everything, is it Yuuri? I need to you talk to me, tell me more."

"Before you got here, when we first met, this whole room was covered with posters of you. I had to take them down when you arrived. I… I just love you so much. I've always loved you! Ever since I was twelve!"

In a heartbeat, everything became still. Like the calm before the storm.


	17. Year One: Summer, part six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

 

 

 

Quick and shallow breaths, not being synchronised. The occasional soft moan. The hungry slurps of very wet kisses. And finally, a question. A question posed with utmost respect. Fuelled by the previous reveal.

"Do you really want to?"

No audible answer was heard. Rather, his answer came in the form of actions. A small caress. A barely noticeable flexion of the hips. A slightly tilted head, deliciously turned to the side. It was a definite invitation.

Victor's voice was but a murmur. "Let's get you out of all this." He took off his glasses, once more. Carefully folding them, putting them away. Brushing some loose strands out of his eyes. "Come. Sit up for me."

Yuuri obliged.

Feeling the warm skin underneath his shirt was like getting a hit from the most wonderful drug. The tingle that spread, taking every millimetre of him in its possession. The feeling of wanting more, just a little more. He felt himself getting more and more preoccupied with the thought of achieving that ecstatic rush. How to sate that need.

Victor trailed his fingers across his back, savouring the response. A small shudder. How he had longed for this, seeing how he reacted to his touch. If there ever was a time he felt invincible, this was it.

"Up." His command was a whisper against his cheek. Yuuri lifted his arms. Victor let his fingers follow Yuuri's spine as he held on to the back of the shirt, coaxing him out of it. As it ended up in his lap with a soft sound, he helped him pull his hands and arms out of the cuffs.

He just had to taste him afterwards. His lips, the nape of his neck, his clavicles. He felt heady, revisiting these places, making himself familiar with them again. He had to stop. Catch his breath. Sigh a little against Yuuri's chest as he paused. Tried to get in control.

He felt a tug. Of course, it was only fair. He got out of his own shirt and was met by warm hands against his chest. Tracing his contours, ever so slowly. Not being hesitant at all.

"You're amazing." Yuuri's voice carried a reverent tone. "The most... beautiful thing I've ever seen."

It almost made Victor wince, at least on the inside. That confidence wasn't there anymore. It had been broken down. Exorcised. Hearing Yuuri say it though, noticing his reactions when he moved his hands across his body and praising him, made him relax. Made him relax so that his fortifications suddenly became unmanned. He was defenseless, ready to be plundered.

He said nothing. Maybe it was just as well. The beads of emotion spoke their own language, but they weren't a sign of hurt, nor sadness. They were a sign of relief. The understanding of not being alone, having someone ease your tension with the help of a few words… Doing things for you that you can't possibly do for yourself. It was indeed a revelation.

He had to lean back, breathe for a moment. He became recumbent, accepting his reaction with some difficulty. Within a second, he had fingers on his face, fingers adamantly drying all that had escaped. Fingers became hands that travelled elsewhere, resting on him. Supporting him by just being still.

He huffed, a soft little laugh. "Talk about spoiling the mood, huh?"

Yuuri shook his head. "I think it was the best thing that could've happened." He paused. His hands found their way to his face again, inching closer to his head.

_Oh, I hate that._

He saw Yuuri lean in. He steeled himself, automatically. He didn't want him to get too close, being slightly self-conscious. Yuuri's cheek and lips were soft against his head.

"It's prickly when it's starting to grow out. But it'll get softer day by day."

"You're killing me right now. Don't say that." He just had to whimper. The vibrations on the inside were a little too palpable, he needed to let some of it out.

He was hushed. Respectfully, in the best possible way.

* * *

"Are you okay, Victor?"

A slow inhale. Maybe he'd already fallen asleep? Yuuri felt bad for waking him up.

"Mhm. I'm fine." A really tired voice. Maybe he was just about to drift off.

"Oh, okay," he continued whilst pulling Victor closer. "Are you okay with, you know, stuff?"

"If I'm okay with 'you know, stuff'?" Victor yawned a little against his chest. "More than okay. It wasn't meant to be today, that's all."

"I wanted it to, you know."

"I know." He suddenly laughed. "I _know_!"

"Stop, you're embarrassing me!"

"I'm sorry. It's just that I… I don't know. I love that side of you. But again, it wasn't meant to be today. Don't worry about it. It'll come."

"What if it won't?"

Victor propped himself up on one elbow.

"Stop. It will. If not, we'll have to relive this day, make some minor tweaks with every new try and see where it goes." He braided his fingers into his hair.

Yuuri scoffed, seeing the absurdity in Victor's remark even though he was trying to lighten the mood. He decided to humor him, play along. "On one condition, in that case. Don't bite me! It hurts!"

"I'll bite you all I want. You're one tasty katsudon after all. Here for the taking."

Yuuri pulled him close, clucking with laughter. It was contagious. It made them both end up gasping for air before they simmered down. Then, they became calm and affectionate again.

"I love you, you know."

"I love you too. Stay with me?"

"Until my life is through."

And with a content sigh, they fell asleep. Preparing themselves to face another day.

* * *

No, it was obvious. Today was going to be a bad day. Usually, he managed to persevere somehow. Today felt different. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do it today.

"Yuuri, I'm sorry. I'm just so tired today." _What's this feeling? It doesn't feel the same. At all._

Victor had started his treatment, a month had passed by without them even noticing. Taking pills was easier, without a doubt, but he wasn't happy with feeling his body getting affected. A gnawing thought in the back of his mind just kept pestering him. _Am I getting worse? No, not now._

"It's okay. It's not like we haven't gotten anywhere. I mean, the short program is done. The music is on its way. I can still work on the free skate on my own. Rest. And eat, okay!"

"I know. It's just… I don't know, everything tastes different now? It's not as good anymore."

Yuuri sat down next to him. Held his hand, letting his thumb play over his knuckles.

"Do… do we need to get back, you think?" He sounded discouraged.

"No." Victor realised that he had answered Yuuri's question a bit too quickly. It made him sound more defiant than sure. He decided to elaborate. "No, I don't think so. I can call the oncologist, you know? Would that make you feel better?"

"Please do that today."

"Fine. I'll do that. In return, I want you to think about the Asian Open. It might be a smart move. You need to test your programs."

"I told you, I…"

"Yes, I know what you said. You want to see what happens, but come on now. You need to get out there! This is what I mean, you can't just sit around. Just doing the Skate Canada and the NHK, it won't be enough before the Grand Prix. And you need more if you're to do well at Worlds. You need more time. Please, just… Think about it, okay? And I'll eat. I promise."

Yuuri pulled a little at the collar of his t-shirt. "I worry, you know."

"I know you do. But there's nothing to be worried about. I promise." He pushed his hair back and gave him a kiss on his forehead. "Okay?"

They looked at each other. Carefully assessing if everything was under control.

Yuuri sighed and buried his face in Victor's neck. He wasn't okay. He wasn't even pretending to hide it today, Yuuri thought. "Promise you'll call. And eat."

"I will, love. You should get going soon. You're going to be late." He kissed his hand.

As they parted, Victor couldn't shake that feeling. That something was stirring. That something was about to happen and he had no possible control over the outcome. He tried to shake it off, but the thought kept bouncing back.

He slowly drank the miso he'd been given for breakfast, feeling his stomach churn. Fighting for the salty soup to stay in its place. No, this was definitely not a day he wanted to remember.


	18. Year One: Summer, part seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

It was always the same. Finding that contact in his phone made him feel sick, dialling the number made him dizzy and hearing the voice on the other end made him feel like he wanted to give up. Dark thoughts attacked him, pouring in from everywhere as he listened to the dialling tone. _I never asked for this. Why me?_

"Mikhail Popyrin, speaking."

He sighed. "Hello, Dr. Popyrin? It's Victor."

"Victor." His voice always sounded… so warm. "How are you?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I'm calling you."

"That's right, you're in Japan now. Have you started with the pills already?"

"Yes, I have. It's easier taking them, no doubt."

"Yes. But, like we talked about, they're not as potent. I want you here for your next cycle. I don't have any blood work on you now, so..."

"I know. Three more weeks, then I'll be back."

"Good. But to the matter at hand. You're not feeling well? I'm sorry to hear that Victor."

_Wonder how many times he's been forced to say that. That he's sorry?_

"No, I'm… more tired now. Last month, I could work. Sure, it was tough, but not impossible. Now, I don't have any energy. I…" _Can't stand it._

"Don't worry, Victor. It's normal. Give me two seconds." The clattering sound of fingers pressing down keys could be heard in the background. "I'm looking at your records here. We took some blood from you, x-rayed your chest again. As far as I can see, Victor, it looks good. Your platelets were a bit low, but not alarming and your whites were… okay, too."

"Okay, so..."

"The x-rays? Good. No change in any direction in either lung, but that is to be expected. I'm happy with the result, it hasn't gotten worse. The MRI was a relief, with no metastases in your brain so… I'm pleased." He paused for a second. Cleared his throat a little. "How are you doing with eating? Sleeping? Your mental health?"

"Eating has started to be a problem. Is it normal that things suddenly taste bad?"

"Yes. Sadly."

"Okay. I feel nauseated more often than not, too. Sleeping, that's probably the one thing I don't have any problems with."

They were silent. Knowing very well that some things weren't accessible for conversation. At least not yet. And they respected that fact.

"So…" Victor didn't know what to say.

"Victor, make sure you eat and take care of yourself. How is your weight?"

"On the decline, I think."

"I don't know if it's readily available there, but ask for protein powder. Add some to your meals, if you don't feel like eating, say, fish. There are high-calorie supplements that could be something for you to start with once you get home. Of course, some weight loss has to do with you losing muscle mass, but it's no secret that chemo is hard on the body."

"When will I get worse?" As soon as the question left his lips, he hated himself for asking it. He wanted it undone, but still… he needed to hear the answer. It was constantly there, hacking away at his defences. Every now and then, it pushed through, came out into the open. Like now.

"I told you last time we met that we won't talk about it, and especially not over the phone like this. Not until we know for sure, with the help of newly taken tests and fresh examinations." Popyrin became silent. It scared Victor. "As for now, you're doing good. Make sure you listen to your body, rest if you need to and so on. Though you really need to eat."

The silence was stifling.

"Victor? You are doing good."

He didn't know what to say. Even though he probably should be relieved, he felt uneasy. "Thank you," he finally said. "For telling me this."

"Anything else on your mind?"

"No. Not really."

"Good. I appreciate you keeping in touch, Victor. Take care of yourself, okay? See you later."

"Thank you again. Bye."

He felt strange on the inside, sitting with his phone in his hands. Feeling… vapid, almost. Empty. ' _You are doing good.' How the hell can he say that? I'm not doing good. I'm not okay._

He sniffed. He hated not being in control, not having access to his own body in the same way as before. He hated the constant buts and what-ifs. The dark fantasies that came to him, every single time he let his guard down.

The ache inside made him long for Yuuri to get home. He needed him in order to piece himself together, to find solid ground. He needed him in order to continue his pretending to be strong. Focusing on him made everything feel more manageable, strangely enough. Being on his own, Victor realised, made pretending impossible.

* * *

He came home, eventually. Not knowing that he'd been needed for quite some time.

He found Victor sleeping, with plates of food barely touched on his desk. The sight of them made his heart sink. He didn't know what to do. This was beyond him. His mom told him that she was worried as soon as he came through the door. That Victor had been keeping to himself most of the day. That didn't help his feeling of helplessness.

He got down on his knees, sitting next to him. Studied him a little as he slept. _Looking at him like this… it's like nothing's wrong at all. Apart from the hair but… I think I'm used to it now. How are you, Victor?_

He leaned in, trailed soft kisses against his jaw. Placed one one his lips, just for good measure. He wanted to talk to him, ask him how he was doing. If he had done what he promised to do but he decided to let him rest.

He went over to his desk and looked at the plates. Seemed like there was some breakfast left and almost everything he probably had for lunch. Okonomiyaki, it looked like. His mother was fussing over him, no doubt. She rarely cooked that dish. Yuuri broke off a piece and put it in his mouth. _Still tasty. I'll eat it._

He sat down next to Victor, thinking about his day. Thinking about his decision to apply for the Asian Open. He had decided to trust Victor. He was going to follow his advice and get at least that competition under his belt before it was time to chase points to get to the Grand Prix. Victor was right. He always was.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Victor shift next to him. He felt his hand on his knee.

"Yuuri? Welcome home."

Victor's eyes were barely open. Yuuri wasn't sure that he was actually awake.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Tiiired…" He rubbed his knee a little.

The small gesture made Yuuri feel warm inside. He was worn out, but still affectionate. _Always taking care of me._

"Did you make that call today?"

"Mhm…"

"And?"

Victor rubbed his eyes and made an effort to prop himself up a little on his elbow. "I… uh… God, I'm so tired. Let me remember. Yes, he said it was all good. That this," he pointed at himself, "is normal. I'm doing good. No changes whatsoever."

Yuuri put away the plate and reclined next to him. He pulled him close. Afraid that he would make him uncomfortable if he saw him tearing up. He had been anxious today, not being able to do much when he was away at the rink. Hearing Victor say that it was okay… It made him shed some of that anxiety. He had prepared himself for something else entirely.

The sensation of Victor's hand underneath his t-shirt made him sigh. Those slow, reassuring strokes along his spine did what they were supposed to. But then, again… why was _he_ comforting _him_?

"I'm worrying about you. More and more."

The stroking stopped. Just for a second. Then, they resumed again.

"Don't be worried. As he said, this is normal."

"You haven't eaten much today, have you?"

"Sorry."

Yuuri let him go and reached for the plate he'd put away. "Here. We can share this." He popped a small piece of pancake in his mouth.

Victor frowned a little.

"Don't be like that. You promised." He broke off another piece and delivered it to Victor, using his lips. "See? It's good."

A smile exploded on Victor's face, almost immediately. "Wish you thought about this earlier! Now, I want to eat."

They continued. Sharing small pieces of food through meeting each other's mouths. Again and again, until the plate was cleared.

"Are you satisfied," Yuuri asked. "Need anything else?"

"I would like some dessert, I think."

His response made him laugh. Knowing exactly what he meant, he kissed him. On his forehead, his eyelids, his mouth. He helped him out of his t-shirt and pulled the duvet on top of them both. He really wanted this to end up as sweet and satisfying as he pictured it in his mind.


	19. Year One: Summer, chapter eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

He put down his phone, letting the small halo of light it made take his hand and tell him to wander off in his thoughts. He was right. Of course he was but… Maybe it was too early, after all? No. In all honesty, it wasn't. This would only get worse and eventually, everyone would find out anyway. Maybe it was better to take a shortcut. To surprise them. Yes, that's it. _My final surprise._

He thought about it. What it would mean. What consequences it would bring to disclose it. Officially tell the skating world that he, Victor Nikiforov, wouldn't be coming back. That he wouldn't ever skate competitively again. And eventually… _No. That's too early. Way too early._ He turned around. Looked at his sleeping beauty, thinking how it would affect him if it suddenly became real. When it was out in the open. Common knowledge to all.

_In a way, Yuuri knows this. We haven't talked about it but… he knows. I'm sure of it._ He got stuck with this particular train of thought. Of course he knew. Somewhere, that thought was alive within him too. Scaring him, maybe? Festering if given the chance? He was sure that he knew this, at least intellectually. Emotionally? Not likely.

Would it make any difference for him? Probably. Would it make him perform worse? Maybe. Would it create unnecessary pain and hurt? Most definitely. _Is it worth it?_ To that, he couldn't find an answer.

He pushed away his phone and wiggled back, so that he was close to his back again. His hand automatically found its way to his chest, hidden underneath the t-shirt. Feeling the ribcage expand slightly with every breath made him warm inside. Longing for it to distend again and reach his palm. He put his nose in his hair. He smelled different when they were in Japan, he thought. _Wonder why._

Strangely, this simple interaction felt enough in so many ways. At least right now.

* * *

They woke up, braided together. Arms and legs entwined. Foreheads close. It happened more often, these days.

"Good morning."

"Hey. Good morning."

Their hands found the faces of each other almost instantly.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I like when you're sleeping in. You never did that. Not... before."

"I know. Other rules now, Yuuri. But… there's a charm to this too, wouldn't you say?"

"Definitely." His smile reached his eyes almost instantly.

"Come. Open up. I want my breakfast."

"You're embarrassing me!"

"Aw, stop it. Just… mmph..."

What lovely initiative. An audience with just the right amount of pressure. Victor felt surprised, being lured into one of his favorite states of mind. His body latched on to his expanding mindset, ready to follow any given signal.

Once his lips bounced back, he just had to ask. "Are we doing this or more?"

"I'm not sure." Yuuri's eyes were still smiling. A good start. He came closer for an encore. An even better promise. He nuzzled Victor's lips apart with his own, seemingly enjoying the reaction, before he tasted his tongue gingerly.

They parted again, making Victor suspire. _He's so forward. I love it._

He really wanted more. Or rather, he wanted to give more. Give him everything. Repay him somehow, for making him feel this way. Repay him in advance for how it would make him feel afterwards.

"Won't you let me? Please? Let me spoil you." He tried to convince him, feather him with soft kisses to break down his defences. But not crossing any line. Staying respectfully calm even though the need and the want were screaming into his ears, telling him to go ahead. Telling him not to consider anything else than their implorations.

Yuuri sat up, started to fiddle with his t-shirt, trying to catch the hem in order to pull it off.

This was a given signal. _The_ given signal. He tried to help but he became eager.

"Calm down." Mirth in voice. Exhilaration in his eyes. "You're not helping. Let me." He gently pushed his hands away.

Seeing him, it always evoked the same feelings inside. He was an apparition, something to be revered. Something to be loved without any restraints. Something that just kept on soothing and agitating in an endless loop.

Again, they met. Luxuriating in the sensation, the smell, the taste. This time, it was more intimate. Still breathing against each other, into each other, he pulled him onto his lap. Enjoying the feeling of accepting him and his mouth from above. The headiness entered, claimed and conquered.

A slight flex of the hips, barely noticeable but still so candid, was all it took. It was time to take back all that had been lost. How he had waited for this day.

* * *

He glanced at him, every now and then. Saw him gripping the sheets. Bite his lower lip. Part his lips in order to breathe. Sometimes, he looked at him too but only briefly, before closing his eyes and returning to a place within himself. A place where he could find his way.

Soft vowels were begging him to stop. For him to continue. His every wish was his command.

He was close. Spending countless upon countless of times like this, with him like this, he knew the subtle cues. There was no need to delay. His breathing turned into small huffs before he mewled. Then he became taut, his breathing stopped. Then he relaxed, gasping for air.

He let him go after one last caress, one little taste. He swallowed, licked his lips and wiped the corners of his mouth. It felt like he had met the same glorious fate.

He had to lie down, rest his head against his heaving stomach. He thought he felt his pulse against his chin being there, heard his life being sustained with every beat directly into his ear. He was warm. Sweaty. And more importantly, his.

This is what it was all about. Life and Love had come together, mixed into a hue that were theirs and theirs alone. A colour noone else could ever use or claim as their own. He realised that wanted to anoint everything that was important to them with it. Make it untouchable. Make it safe.

Suddenly, he felt strong. And alive. And it was all because of him. All thanks to him.

* * *

They showered. Helped each other lather up both hair and bodies. They didn't feel like talking. Somehow, everything had been said even though they hadn't used any words.

He dried Yuuri's hair. Massaging the water into the towel, leaving him with a windswept and messy look. "There. All done. Kiss?"

"Have you brushed your teeth?"

He just had to laugh. And yes, he'd brushed his teeth. He nodded and was received his just reward.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

"Sorry. I just…"

"I know. Don't apologise. I love that about you."

"Hungry?" Apparently, they were done discussing that.

"Hmm… A little, actually. Maybe you can feed me if I'm fussy? I liked that."

"Now, you're being silly." He paused, just for a second. "I'd do anything for you."

_Now, I know you do._

They looked at each other. With a smile, they focused on getting dressed.

Victor got it now, that Yuuri had been worried. Terribly worried. Hearing that he was doing okay, or at least not getting worse, must have put his mind at ease. He'd let himself feel all that he'd been trying to keep locked up inside, either out of fear or concern, and found his way out of that debilitating undergrowth.

"Yuuri?"

"Mhm?" He was fighting his sweater, it seemed.

Victor waited until he emerged. He wanted him to hear this. When Yuuri finally found his way and pulled his arms through the sleeves, Victor resumed.

"Thank you. Honestly. Thank you for this."

He flushed a little. "For… for what?"

"Everything. Today, the day before… Everything. Yuuri, I… there's something about you that makes all the difference. I told you before, you're everything I'm not. I just want you to know that you're making me feel better. About all of this. Especially after today." He paused. He wasn't sure where this was going at all, but the gratitude he felt was swelling up, taking up more and more space inside him. "You're making it easier to be me, I guess."

Instantly, Yuuri came close, wrapped his arms around him. He could feel that little quiver, that emotional side of him reacting to his heartfelt words.

"I want you to be you! Always! I don't want you to… I don't want anything else!"

He hugged him back. Rubbed his back a little to make him understand that his feelings were valid. That they were okay.

"I just can't believe I'm making such a difference, you know." He was sobbing now. "I'm constantly worried. Constantly out of my head. Constantly denying you. And somehow, you think it's okay? That I'm making it easier for you? You are the one who makes it easier, Victor!"

A little wail escaped him. Victor just held him tighter.

"You're always comforting _me_."

"It's because I can. Just let me. You're making me feel good." He pushed him out of his arms. Just a little, enough for him to gain access to his face. Kiss those tears away. "Okay?"

Yuuri nodded. A small smile appeared as they met each other's eyes.

"Breakfast?"

"I'd love to."

* * *

"Yuuri, about Asian Open…?"

"Yeah. I'm doing it."

They were eating breakfast, sitting amongst the other patrons of the inn in the dining room.

"I'm glad. Really glad. You know, I think we should talk about what happens if… if I'm too tired to go."

Yuuri stopped eating, hovering a piece of food in front of his mouth.

Victor continued. "I think it'll be okay, but I want to know if that makes you feel different about it?"

"I'm not comfortable going alone." He sounded disappointed.

"I hear you. But… would you? If it was to come to that?"

"I… I mean, inside me, all I can feel is a big no. But I have to, right?"

"I think it would be best. Of course, we're going to plan for me to go. I'll only stay home if I can't get out of bed."

Victor could tell that he'd put a damper on the mood. Yuuri had lowered his head, stopped eating his breakfast.

"Hey…" Victor reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "It'll be okay."

Yuuri looked at him from underneath his still damp hair and gave him a small nod.

"Also, I got a text from Yakov. Makkachin's fine, you don't have to look at me like that. He was asking me if I had thought about announcing my retirement."

"Retirement?!"

"Yes, from skating."

"But wh… oh."

He studied him. As he did, he understood that he'd made the wrong decision. He wasn't ready. It was way too early for a talk like this.


	20. Year One: Summer, part nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **With this chapter, another arc is finished. And with it, a small hiatus is incoming! Thank you for reading and commenting, means the world!**
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

He went after him. He'd hoped for a different reaction, hoped for it so much that he was unable to read him. See the subtle cues. And now, it was on his conscience.

"Wait!" He called for him as he went up the stairs to his room. That room would be unable to keep the positive associations from earlier. This was certain. "Yuuri, I'm sorry!" He heard him close the door.

* * *

He felt him. Even before he walked in. And when he did, the sound of the door opening wasn't what made him understand that he was there. It was something else. A kind of energy. An energy he had just started to pay attention to. An energy he knew he couldn't live without.

He felt frantic. He'd only just realised what it would mean. What it would entail if he couldn't sense it any longer. If his every moment, being aware and awake, would keep being devoid of that energy. Being devoid of him.

He hadn't felt this for a long time. This anxiety. This hurt. It had been hibernating. Biding its time, waiting for a moment to emerge and ravage him again. And now, it was stronger, more forceful. More inconsiderate and reckless than ever.

It was familiar, feeling that voracious beast put its hands around his neck. Squeezing it together with all it had. Placed itself on his chest with all its weight. Making sure that he would have to fight in order to stay alive. Opening his mouth, gasping for air did nothing. Trying to fill his lungs to their maximum didn't work. Trying to relax in order to make the attempt to end him stop failed miserably.

But that energy that came in, it did something. It always did. It calmed. It soothed. It protected. It enveloped him, made him stop treading water. Pulled him back up to the surface, ever so slowly. But now, it took longer. It was harder. Almost impossible.

"I'm sorry." It sounded like the voice came from far away. Distorted by fathoms upon fathoms of darkness. What do you do to reach that voice? How can you come back and find that solace?

It seemed like he was being held. Bundled up, almost. He felt something through layers and layers of incapacitation. It was probably a warm sensation, but to him it felt like a cool, slight touch. Barely noticeable.

The voice spoke again. "Just let it out. I'll be here. I'm sorry."

Hearing it, that muddled voice, made him let go. He knew that the voice was telling the truth, its master would be there. Its master would lead him right, pick him up, make him find peace. Its master would calm that storm.

The quaking started right away he realised that fact. It ripped through him, tensing him up, letting him go. Almost like before, when the sensation was born from pleasure. Now, its mother was pain, and she had left her mark on her offspring.

He screamed. No matter how much force he used to make the air and the sound escape, it was low. Inaudible. He tried harder. Harder. Harder! But to no avail.

* * *

" _Yuuri! YUURI?!"_

"It's fine. Hiroko, it's fine. Um… _Daijoubu! Hai._ "

Yuuri's screams had echoed throughout the inn. Considering the volume, the nature of the sound, it would have been strange if his family hadn't barged in. He wasn't too surprised that it happened, even though it felt strange not being able to explain the situation.

They looked at each other, Hiroko and Victor. He tried to seem calm and composed in front of her. He noticed Mari and Toshiya in the background, peering in. Trying to see if there was something they could do. _The cat's out of the bag here too. It's definitely closing in. I can't contain this. Not for much longer._

Hiroko carefully stepped closer. Almost asking for permission. Victor glanced at her. She had tears in her eyes. Her hand was in front of her mouth. _Just like him._

She got down on her knees, stroked Yuuri's hair as he was tucked in against his chest. Mumbled something Victor couldn't understand. They looked at each other, again. Victor nodded, tried to convey that he had this under control. That it was okay. That he would be okay, once he had cried himself dry and screamed himself hoarse.

Before she left, she did the same to him. Stroked his head. Tried to comfort him in the only way she felt capable of doing. It made him tap into a little of Yuuri's sadness. He felt a small tremble in the pit of his stomach.

He heard the door close behind him with a soft click. He sighed a little. It was getting out of control. This cloak and dagger operation was daunting. He somehow wanted to disclose everything to everyone, just to spare people from situations like this. It was just like that time when they had met up with the rink mates in St. Petersburg. People got dragged in, without being prepared or ready. Like he was a natural disaster, coming in and wreaking havoc everywhere. _That's not me. I don't want it to be me!_

He hugged him tighter. Put his legs around him too. He wanted him to feel that he was there, that he could let his defenses down. That was the only gift he could think of giving him. Making him feel that his emotions were okay to display, no matter what. He never wanted him to feel like he should spare him. He wanted him to know that he could stand the test.

* * *

He fell asleep, eventually. Exhausted from crying. Exhausted from feeling. Victor barely noticed it at first. It just became gradually silent and still, until he grew limp and heavy in his arms.

He adjusted his grip around him, eased up on it. Tried his best to put him down without waking him up. He tucked him in, slightly.

He sat and watched him sleep for a while. Nothing about him said that he'd been devastated earlier. He looked peaceful where he was. Gorgeous, even. _How much more of this can you take, Yuuri? I fear for you and for what's to come._

He took off his sweater and eased himself closer to him underneath the duvet. The soft and consistent breaths made him relax. He was tired, too. Receiving those amounts of volatile emotions had that effect on him. It took a lot to let them pass him by in the moment, not to get all tangled up in them and reacting to them. But he'd gotten good, his containing function was impeccable. But he was feeling weary. It felt like that jar of his, where all the tears, all the cries and all the hurt were stored, was getting full. He wondered to himself what would happen when it started to overflow. If he would burst. If he would seep. And more importantly, would Yuuri be ready?

 _Ready for what?_ That was a good question. He thought about it. Not touching the tougher subjects. They weren't accessible to him right now. But other things were. He wanted Yuuri to be strong when he couldn't stay strong anymore. When he needed to break.

He knew that he'd made a promise to himself. He would never burden him, never cry in front of him. But that promise had started to feel more and more impossible to keep. He just had to, though. For a while longer. After today's display, he realised this. He wasn't ready yet.

And… I'm doing okay. At least for now. I can keep this up for a while longer. No, that's not it. I have to. I have to, for a while longer. But when will I know that he's ready? And what if he's not when I just can't do this to the same extent?

He felt around for his phone in the pocket of his trousers and rolled over to his back.

_To: Yakov_

_I know you're right. I'd rather do it now while I still can. I hate to tell you this but can you make the statement? I'll be home in three weeks. Maybe everything will have calmed down then? I can't deal with it right now, so… Please?_

He hovered over the send button for something that felt like an eternity. _Maybe it won't be so bad? He'll just say that I'm quitting. No big deal. There will be questions, of course, but… I'll deal with them. Eventually. And not when he's around. Focus is on him now, not me._

He finally pressed send, holding his breath as he did. An answer came almost right away.

_From: Yakov_

_I'll do that. Take care, Vitya. /Yakov_

He felt something that resembled a laugh bubble up inside. This is not what he imagined his life to be, a mere six months ago. Being forced to quit? Not only skating but… everything else? Suddenly, he realised that it wasn't a laugh.

He put his phone away, feeling the need to swallow again and again. He returned to his side. Felt that wonderful scent. Felt that intoxicating warmth. He hugged him hard and buried his face in between his shoulder blades. He wasn't going to cry, he thought as he held his breath.

At least not on the outside.

**~Year One: Summer~**

**the end**


	21. Year One: Autumn, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Movie mentioned _'Departures'_ , © 2008 Sedic International / Shochiku.**
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

_Two more months. Two more months. Two more months of this. I… I can take it._

Victor sat in bed, pinching his nose. Waiting for Yuuri to arrive with tissues. He often got nosebleed these days. At least once every day, often several times too. It was as if there wasn't a bad time for him to start gushing. More often than not, a sneeze or a slight touch of the nose would make him bleed. Sometimes, it started totally unprovoked. Sometimes, it started when he… exerted himself.

Small moments in time flashed before his inner eye. How he sprayed a scarlet mist all over the bathroom mirror when he sneezed, almost scaring Yuuri to death. How he got stuck with his nose when he put on a rather expensive shirt and ruined it. How he never noticed the bloodbath, consisting of blood and other bodily fluids combined, when he was pleasing him. _That was awkward._

To Victor, it felt like he was falling apart. Getting more fragile by the day. His skin was dry, felt strange to the touch. He'd lost weight after four months on chemotherapy. He really didn't recognise himself any more. Nothing about his body felt, or looked, the same.

He could hear Yuuri's bare feet against the floor before he appeared. He had become used to this. It pained Victor. Immensely. _He shouldn't have to get used to all this crazy._

"Here. We really need to buy more." He gave him an unopened packet.

"Open it for me, I think it's still going." His voice was distorted from pinching his nose closed.

The same ritual every time. Ripping the tissue, finding out which nostril that bled and getting the tissue in, hopefully before any blood ended up somewhere it shouldn't. Victor sighed.

"Here, give me your hand." Yuuri dipped a tissue in a glass of water that stood on the nightstand.

Victor silently obeyed. _Is this what it'll come to? Down the road?_

He loved his touch, how soft it was. He loved how concentrated he looked with that little frown as he carefully erased everything crimson that should stay inside. He loved him, and how he did his best to adjust himself. Adjust himself so that he could handle a totally new normal.

"You know," Yuuri said when he was done, "I read that there's this gel you can squirt into the nostril to stop the bleeding. I can try to get it, if you'd like."

"We can go. Tomorrow, after practise." He squeezed his hand. It was important to him to push forward, somehow. Not let the new normal set a distorted and pathetic standard.

* * *

Yuuri had been successful at the Asian Open, bringing home yet another gold. His second gold medal. Victor had been by his side, but he had been struggling. Thinking about it, made him sick to his stomach.

"Yuuri, relax your back!" He studied him as he was going over the free skate. "Bring up your shoulder a bit more! Good!"

He got back to his previous absentmindedness. Started to remember what it felt like going to Hong Kong, almost fresh off a treatment. Just like when they went to Japan. It had been harrowing. He'd kept it together though, although it had been nearly impossible at times.

The thing that bothered him the most was a somewhat forbidden thought. He felt his throat cramp up a little as it entered his mind. _It was the first time I actually hated being at a competition._ He didn't know if it was because of him feeling sick and being tired, or if he just felt… done. Done with that world. The stress, the pressure. The need to be on top of things. Maybe his decision to officially retire as a competitive skater had something to do with it, but he pushed that idea away. He had hated being there. Even though he had been together with Yuuri.

That's probably what made him feel sick, he gathered. How the thing that had brought them together suddenly didn't seem all that important anymore. How it started to lose its significance. It suddenly felt like a burden.

He felt a sting inside. _I don't want to feel sick and tired of doing things with you!_ He had to leave. He felt it inside. It was threatening him. That feeling that had been manifesting itself more often.

"Yuuri!" He hated that it had reached his voice, making him sound weepy. He hoped that he wouldn't notice. "I'm just going to…" He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, indicating that he was going to go to the locker rooms.

"Okay!" Seemed like his tone of voice had passed him by unnoticed.

He walked off. Locked the door behind him as he entered the restroom and silently wept into his hands. He didn't want to feel done. Not with him.

* * *

Yuuri kept skating for a little while before he took a break. He sipped some water out of his water bottle and shot a glance at the clock on the far side of the wall. Two hours had passed. It was time to start going back soon. Usually, they would have longer sessions but life hadn't been its usual self for a long time.

_Where did you go off to?_

He found his skate guards and scraped the ice off the blades of his skates before putting them on. He wanted to see what was keeping Victor, and walked off to the locker rooms. He saw that one of the restrooms was occupied and decided to sit and wait, they were the only ones there today so it was unlikely that it was someone else than Victor in there.

_What's taking him so long?_

He decided to go and gently knock on the door. "Victor?" He heard a muffled 'mhm' from within. "I was thinking of cooling down now. Could you help me with the stretching?"

"Just a minute." His voice sounded different. Very different.

"Are… you okay in there?" Yuuri's heart started to beat both harder and faster.

"A minute, please, Yuuri!"

"You're making me worried. Can you come out?" He felt his pulse just about everywhere. The hastened spasms almost impaired him. When he heard the lock click, he realised that he had been holding his breath. He had to gasp for air.

He studied him intently as he came out. Tried to see if anything was different. Looking for subtle cues. Victor gave him just a quick glance before going over to the mattress in front of the wallbar. He laced off his skates and went over to him. Something was different, he could feel it. He decided to acknowledge that by stroking his arm.

They worked together in silence. Did the same routine. Strangely enough, the silence was something they both felt happy that they shared. They needed it to sort out their thoughts.

* * *

After going home, after stopping at a pharmacy and after eating dinner, they huddled up on the sofa. After a brief discussion, where they ruled out watching skating videos, animal clips on Youtube and a weird children's show that Yuuri found simply amazing, they decided to watch a movie. Victor decided to let Yuuri choose, he was bound to fall asleep within minutes anyway.

Yuuri picked a movie after silently flipping through the many choices at hand. He decided to pick a Japanese movie, something that rarely happened, and they made themselves comfortable. Ending up the way they almost always did with Yuuri's back against Victor's chest and between his legs with the laptop on his stomach.

"Subtitles, please," Victor whispered in his ear.

Soon enough, Yuuri's breathing became slow and heavy. Victor smiled. It was always like that with him, it was hopeless watching movies together. He loved that about him. He decided to watch the movie anyway.

It was about a former cellist who got another job, assisting with encoffinments. The man was shunned by his wife, who thought of his new profession to be tainted and full of taboos.

Victor instantly froze. His mind started to scramble for explanations. Why had Yuuri picked this movie? Had he seen it before? Was he telling him something without actually saying it? _Did he really fall asleep?_

He felt bad for the main character, who was seen as impure as he dealt with the bodies of the departed. _Is this a fate he's going to share when he… when he says goodbye to me? Will he be tainted because of me? What if he won't be with me? What if I'm… What if I'm to die alone?_

Victor really wanted him to be asleep. He couldn't get away, not like before at practise, and waking him up was just out of the question. He buried his face in his hair and inhaled, tried to keep himself steady. He zoned in on taking deep breaths as his emotions got the best of him. Purged him of tears.

At some point, they would have to talk about it. About a forthcoming departure.


	22. Year One: Autumn, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Luckily for Victor, Yuuri had a joint training with the rest of the Russian senior team. He still hadn't faced them since they came back from Japan. He couldn't, due to a lot of reasons. He hated what he looked like. He wouldn't want them to see him in his current state. Also, Yakov was supposed to break the news to them today, that he wasn't coming back to skating. He knew that he couldn't deal with their reactions. He could barely deal with himself.

He felt disappointed. He had hoped that it would have been taken care of while they still were in Japan. Coming back to that piece of news, that the world was in the same state as when he had left, was daunting. He never asked Yakov why he couldn't persevere, why he couldn't do him that final favor as his coach. Somewhere within him, he knew that it probably wasn't easy for him either.

He sighed, watched the IV cannula taped to the back of his hand. _One more after this. One more._ The nurse gave him a reassuring smile, flushed the cannula with saline and attached the drip. It stung today. He winced.

She studied him, had her eyes glued to the back of his hand. "No, this won't do. I think we destroyed it. I'm sorry."

A lump had formed underneath the skin where his vein tore. He felt his lip quiver. _One more. One. More._

The nurse redid the whole procedure, this time with the cannula in the bend of his arm. She brought him a pillow so that he could rest it, feel comfortable with having it stretched out for the hour it took for the chemo to finish.

Fatigue suddenly came over him. He leaned back in his chair and prayed that he could drift off to sleep. He wished for it to be over.

* * *

He wasn't sure if he was asleep or if he was residing in the borderlands of being awake. It was so vivid, the replayed scenes from last night. When he, without any consideration, told Yuuri that they needed to talk.

He knew that he couldn't stand being in his own skin if the information came from someone else. Yuuri deserved to hear that from him. It was as simple as that. So, he decided to bring it up again. Tell him that as of tomorrow, he wouldn't be a professional skater any more. The official statement was planned to be delivered later that week. He felt annoyed that the Figure Skating Association of Russia demanded his presence. _Just deal with it without me! I can't be bothered anymore._

Of course, there was never a good time delivering upsetting news. With Yuuri's reaction in Japan still fresh in his memory, he had decided to just… say it. Get it over with. Deal with the consequences later. Or not. He wasn't sure if he had it in him to console him this time, being tired after two consecutive days of chemo. But it just couldn't wait. So, he just said it.

"Yuuri. It's happening tomorrow. The others on the team will hear that I'm stepping down. I'm telling you this now so that you won't..." _There. My final surprise._

Yuuri looked away. Started to prod and pick at the inside hem of his jeans. Of course, he said nothing.

Victor suspected as much. He knew that Yuuri probably would sit quiet for a while, process what he'd been told and then, react. He felt sick to his stomach when he got an impulse to just get up and leave. Leave him fidgeting on the couch. Emotionally, he felt weak. He couldn't stand an emotional outburst from him. On every other day, possibly, but not just today.

He shocked himself when he actually got off the sofa and went into the bathroom. He gripped the basin as he tried to understand himself, head bent down in thought. He couldn't believe that he'd just left him there. That he'd just walked off. He felt disgusted with himself. This wasn't him, who he was or what he stood for. He was meant to be with him, not leave him.

He started to brush his teeth, just to make it seem like he went into the bathroom with that purpose alone. Even that hurt, feeling the bristles against his gums. When he spat out the excess, he noticed that the froth was lightly pink. Victor felt like he was losing his patience. He was indeed falling apart, piece by piece it seemed. Physically, it had been going on for some time. But now… it was getting to him. Mentally. He suddenly felt angry. Furious even. _It's so unfair!_

He never noticed that he was gripping the basin that hard until he felt soft hands from behind, finding their way underneath his shirt. Two palms rested against his chest. His back suddenly felt warm, his cheek being everything he could have ever wanted to have against him. And hence, his indignation melted away. He became unarmed.

"You don't have to worry about me." His voice was low. Maybe he was trying not to cry?

Victor looked in the mirror. He could only see the top of his head. He felt calm against his back, though. Nothing told him that he was affective. Maybe he was fine? How wonderful it would be if he was.

He found one of those hands underneath his shirt. Letting his thumb play over the knuckles. Tracing the fingers slowly. Lacing his fingers together with his.

"I do. Every damn day." A whimper just pressed itself out of him, fought its way out. _No, please. No. No. I'm never doing this. Not in front of you._

He felt arms crossing themselves in front of him, adding a much needed pressure. Pressure that kept him from shattering.

* * *

"Victor?"

A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back.

"I'm going to remove this for you. Sit still and I'll fetch some gloves." The nurse walked off and returned just as quickly. She handed him a bottled protein shake and a straw before removing the cannula from his arm.

"Thank you." The complementary band-aid was orange today.

"You're welcome. You can go see the doctor, he's waiting for you."

Victor wasn't looking forward to seeing the oncologist today, but it was part of the routine. Blood test, x-ray, chemo, conversation. Empty feeling whilst getting home. Same procedure, every time.

They shook hands, talked about his blood panel. Low whites. Extremely low platelets. Problems? Admonitory words. Suggestions. It was like he wasn't even there. In body, possibly, but not in any other regard. And nor did he care.

"Other than that, I must say I'm happy with the x-rays. A small comfort maybe, since you're feeling bad. But this is good, Victor."

He snapped out of it, re-entered his body. Taken with the sensation of feeling again. "Oh, sorry?"

"It seems like the chemo has done a pretty good job. See here." Dr. Popyrin pointed with a pen at the images. "The one in the left lung is barely visible. We have to do another MRI for the right one, but I think it looks promising."

Hope. A small flicker.

"What… does that mean?" He remembered Yuuri's words from before. It felt like a lifetime ago. ' _The life expectancy._ _Aren't you afraid?'_

"It might go in remission. Give you a well-deserved break."

And like that, it became extinguished. There was no escaping this. It was puerile to even let yourself get charmed by the what-ifs. He understood that now, feeling the realisation root itself. It grew strong, thick and unmanageable in seconds. He had to carry that weight, but he felt himself buckle. Getting extremely close to kneeling.

_Just one more._


	23. Year One: Autumn, part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

"Victor? Come to bed." Yuuri's voice was concerned.

He heard him coming closer, his feet making that recognisable sound from behind. He knew that he probably should go to bed, but he felt uneasy. Restless. It felt better sitting, staying awake. Not letting his thoughts take over completely. All alone on the sofa.

His hands made contact with his shoulders. It didn't ease any of the flurrying he felt within. He put his own hands on his, as they rested on his shoulders. Hoping that the gesture would convey that he was thankful for him caring. For getting out of bed.

"I can't sleep. I've tried." The hands disappeared from his shoulders. He didn't bother looking after them. Not really uninterested. Just… listless. But the hands came back, and with them, they brought arms and a warm body. Gently forcing themselves upon him, not giving him the opportunity to say no.

He requited the embrace, spread his legs to give him room. Allowing him to come closer.

"I'm tired, Yuuri."

The hug became warmer. The squeeze tightened, speaking in its own language. He felt surprised. It was like there was a change. A change trying to take its first wobbling steps, being afraid and insecure. But a change, nonetheless.

"I know you are. But…"

He knew what Yuuri wanted to say. Again, that change trying to maybe take a bold step in thought but not really pulling it off. _I am. I am looking forward to getting a break. But I want it to keep going. Be sustained until… forever. I don't want to think about what happens when it's over._

He sighed. Put a hand in his hair, feeling the strands fall in between his fingers as he combed through it. Yuuri made a low noise, he sounded relaxed and content with that treatment.

"I'm thinking about tomorrow, you know." Victor zoned in on the sensation of Yuuri's hair in his hands, between his fingers. Distancing himself from everything else.

"Are you worried?"

"I am."

Yuuri shifted, sat up on his knees. Kissed his forehead, nose and lips. He lingered a bit at that last destination. He left a faint taste of toothpaste on Victor's lips.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Victor blinked. He looked sincere. Those brown eyes, almost black due to the lack of light in the livingroom, pierced him. His hands were cupping his face, telling him that he meant every word.

He wanted to say yes. He really did, but he couldn't make himself utter those words. He wanted to keep him out of it. Try to protect him for a little while longer even though he realised, with great sadness, that he wanted, needed, to… be protected in return.

"It'll be okay, Yuuri. I'll keep it short, deliver the statement and nothing more." _I won't answer any questions. None whatsoever._

"What time was it, again? How are you getting there?"

"I'm going with Yakov. Two, I think it was." _The fucking thing will be televised._

Yuuri came back, warmed up his chest once again. "If… if you're not going to bed, can I sleep out here with you?"

"Oh… Of course. What a silly question."

After a while, with two blankets on top of him, one out of wool and the other out of flesh, he fell asleep. Feeling somewhat protected, just like he was hoping for.

* * *

Today's look; casual. Victor was hoping that being dressed that way wouldn't make people think twice about him covering his head. His newest obsession was headwear. He spent a seemingly ridiculous amount of time matching his steadily increasing beanie collection with his clothes.

He decided to dress in black and green, wearing slightly baggy clothes to continue with the illusion. Even layering a bit up top, just to keep them out of the loop. _Even though I'm retiring today, you don't have to know the reason why. It's none of your business._

"You look great." Yuuri beamed. Strangely, that was comforting.

"Thank you," he responded and added a kiss to enforce his words.

Yuuri accompanied him to the bottom floor, with Makkachin in tow. It was a dreary day, gray with an apparent chance of heavy downpour. _How suitable._

They spotted Yakov's car after a while.

"Okay, I better go." He caressed his cheek a little before kissing him goodbye.

"I love you."

"Love you too. Hey," he sat down on his heels, "be a good boy today." He scratched the poodle behind its ears and gave the dog a hug. "So…"

"See you later."

"Yes. Shall I pick something up on the way back?"

"Please. Pizza?"

"Done." He gripped Yuuri's waist a little, gave it a playful squeeze. "Yes, it's okay with pizza today."

"Meanie!"

He couldn't believe that he actually laughed. Only briefly, but still.

_This is why I love you so much._

* * *

Yuuri sat in front of his laptop, constantly reloading the Figure Skating Association of Russia's homepage. It was a couple of minutes past two, the live stream should have started by now. Suddenly, the stream started with a costume clad man speaking. Yuuri didn't understand a thing, but that wasn't bothering him. He was scanning the screen for other purposes entirely.

Victor was easy to spot, sitting to the far left of the screen. He had Yakov next to him. That revelation made Yuuri's heart clench a bit. _Yakov's there, supporting him, but I couldn't come?_ He suddenly felt both upset and… angry? At the time, he couldn't understand why. That discovery would take a little longer for him to figure out.

He considered to turn the laptop off, but decided against it. But the feelings that had started to develop wouldn't subside. Instead, they grew. As Victor started to speak, he started to cry. He removed his glasses and put his head against his pulled-up knees. Only hearing the voice of the person who he had revered all his life.

* * *

"... and with that, I'm officially announcing my retirement as a competitive skater. I'd like to thank Yakov Feltsman for being my devoted coach for so many years, and of course, I want to thank the people of Russia and my fans for their unending support."

The noise grew and became ear-splitting in seconds. But he remained calm, even though his first impulse was to get up and leave.

"Can I go, you think?" He leaned over to Yakov, spoke into his ear.

"Wait, Vitya. When it gets quiet, you say that you won't be answering questions. Then, you leave. I'll stay."

He put his hand on Yakov's arm. Trying to rekindle with how it was before, when everything Yakov said and did was comforting. How incredibly distant that feeling was now, seeing reporters trying to outvoice each other, feeling every camera flash burn his skin.

But it did calm down. Eventually. And he did what he had to.

"I won't be answering questions at this time. Thank you for understanding." _Now, can I go?_

* * *

He thought he would feel relieved but that wasn't entirely true. It surprised him. He felt… lost somehow. That a part of him was gone, taken by something beyond his control. Leaving something raw and painful behind.

As he waited to reach his floor, he knew that not bringing Yuuri along was a smart choice. If he felt this way about his own retirement, what would that make Yuuri feel? Victor didn't know this, but he was only moments away of finding out.

Unlocking the door to their flat and opening it took courage. When he stepped inside and removed his coat and shoes, he heard him. Again, that revolting impulse. He wanted to go back out again. He felt too weak to deal with any other emotions than his own. So, he stood in the hallway for something that felt like an eternity. Getting more and more caught up in the lament from further in.

_One more._

He was greeted by Makkachin, somewhat later than he'd expected. Yuuri's voice drowning out the sound of his arrival. He gave the dog a hug, tried to steal a little of the energy he brought with him. _Always so calm. Always so wise._

He decided to find him, with great trepidation. That was easy.

He stood and watched him for a while. How he had retreated into a place, somewhere within that made him oblivious to the outside world. It was painful to see, Victor thought. He understood him, though. He knew how important he'd been and now… Something had changed.

He really didn't want to, every fibre within him said no, but he walked up to him. Sat beside him on the bed. Put a hand on his back. It didn't make him return. He thought about it, if he could do more. Of course, he could do so much more but he was struggling too. It felt like they had reached something unsurmountable, right in that moment.

It was as if his body moved by itself. Doing what it had always done. Getting closer, seeking that warmth. Not caring about what state he was in. His mind fought him, though. It was like he wasn't there, either. Staring at a photo on the wall, keeping the sound and feel of him away. Even though there wasn't any space between them.

Still with his eyes locked on that photo, he spoke. "I know. It's hard for me too."

No response. Not that he was expecting one. Just the same, intense… grief.

_I do understand you. I do. Ever since Japan, I… I've always been a part of you and now that part is taken from you too. What scares me is that I don't know what to do._


	24. Year One: Autumn, part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

After a while, he did just that. Got up and left. But not because of him not standing to be with him and his sadness for another second. He went out to do what he had promised.

When he returned, slightly winded and annoyed about that fact, he turned on the oven. The pizza needed to get heated up after the walk. Before shoving it in, he returned to him. To his side.

Like before, he had spent himself. Victor actually felt surprised. He never thought that he had it in him to repeatedly empty himself in that way. It seemed like it happened so often, these days. At the same time, he felt his heart clench because he understood that there was so much hurt inside him. And that he seemed to refill that hurt almost instantly.

"Yuuri…" He spoke softly into his ear. Hoping that his voice would reach him this time where his hand previously couldn't. He let his cheek touch his. "Yuuri… wake up." And slowly, he started to return. His eyes were still slightly red when they opened.

"Oh…" His voice was low. "You're back."

"I've been here for quite some time." _He really ends up somewhere else when it starts._ "I take it you, uh, saw the press conference."

He looked away, the brown eyes seeking some other kind of refuge. Not looking for his. "Yes," he mouthed.

"I'm just going to say this one thing, Yuuri. Then… if you want to add something, it's fine but I just… I just want you to know that I understand, okay?" He put his hand against his cheek. "I want you to know that I probably feel the same. We're both lost in this."

A small quiver of his lower lip. Victor instantly understood that he'd gotten it right. Yuuri seemed to, telepathically almost, affirm this with a small nod.

"Do you want to say something? I bought food so-"

"What's the point?" A razor-like sharpness in his voice when he interrupted him.

"What?" Victor felt a change.

"I said, what's the point! Of… of me skating anymore?!"

* * *

The anger from before became clear to Yuuri. Initially, he thought that he felt pushed aside. Rejected, not useful as support nor as a confidant. But he understood that it was more complicated than that. It was an anger that stemmed from his way of perceiving things connected to him. Not only him but skating and ultimately… Victor.

The feeling of severing a very complicated bond, tightly entwined with accolades, love, reverence, and identity, and not having a say in the process, made him frantic. Instead of reacting like he normally did, feeling different kinds of emotions on the scale of sadness, he became angry. He realised that he wanted to fight for it. Fight for what he thought he was entitled to.

In his mind, he was entitled to skate. For too long, his desire to skate had been tightly interwoven with Victor. Chasing him, aspiring to be his peer. Seeing him. Meeting him. And later in life, fantasising about him. Loving him. Desiring him. There could be no skating without him. And ultimately, no life without him.

"Of course there's a point."

His words pushed. Prodded. Irritated. _He said that he understood, but he doesn't! He doesn't understand a thing!_

"Everything, just everything, is being taken away!" He scrambled to find the words, because nothing made any sense. It was like trying to describe a colour to someone who was born blind, or something just as challenging. Fleeting. "I was so happy when we married, Victor. I thought that it… that is was finally happening, you know? That life would just fall into place! But then you..."

He sat up. Somehow, it felt better. Made him feel ready. For what?

"But now, you're doing it again. Making decisions, saying things that just make me feel so bad!"

"Yuuri, come on. We both know that I can't continue competitive skating anymore! Honestly, to me it sounds like you think I made a bad decision?"

"You made the worst decision of your life today! You shouldn't have retired! You could've gone without having to skate ever again, but you shouldn't have retired!" He paused. Not to gather his thoughts, but to catch his breath. "It's like you don't care what happens!"

It was like his thoughts and words were bullets, fired at random. He didn't care where they'd hit.

* * *

_He's just upset. Don't listen. It's not him talking._

But his words hurt. And they made him agitated in return. He fought himself not to let those feelings, those suffocating impulses, get the best of him.

"It's like you don't care what happens!"

With that, he failed. It was like flipping a switch. Sure, they'd fought before. Before all this. But it had been about silly things. Small things. Not even coming close to something like this. And once, after they came home. After they'd married. But that Yuuri reacting out of shock. No. This was something else entirely.

"What did you just say?" He sat up. It was a declaration of war. Meeting him as an equal. Not giving him the satisfaction to get upset and find comfort, like before.

Their eyes met. It was like looking into a mirror. The expression he saw was the one he was dressed in, himself. The slight frown, the tense jaw. The vibrating eyes, trying to keep steady.

He resumed. Decided to pose his question differently. "I really hope that what you just said isn't what you meant." _I'm giving you another chance._ _Because if what you said is what you meant, then I really can't deal with you. Not right now._

"I told you, you just don't care anymore!" Yuuri's voice suddenly had that vibrato. The one that shines through when other emotions than anger are in play. The one that tries to keep the deception going. And suddenly, it became low. Barely audible. "You don't care. What happens to me, you just don't."

The eye contact broke. Victor probably noticed that Yuuri was fighting to keep it together now. But he couldn't make himself do what he had been up until now. Stay patient. Stay there in the moment. Keep him close and endure his heartbreak.

"If you are going to cry, then I'd prefer if you did it somewhere else." He took hold of his arm, proving his point. "I would go myself, but…" _I won't. Not this time._

Yuuri pulled himself out of his grip. Still not meeting his eyes.

They sat there, in a stalemate. The one who left would most certainly be on the losing side. Not even a mediator could make them step down, in this case a slightly anxious dog feeling the change between them. They left him out too, not acknowledging that he jumped up on the bed and tried to get affection from either of them.

Finally, someone did leave the room.

* * *

He went into the kitchen and turned off the oven. It hurt. The whole exchange. The whole experience. The whole day had been a nightmare from beginning to end and it still held him in its grasp. He had been hoping for something else, desperately needing something to alleviate the things that were building up. Before, he had buckled, being close to kneeling. He was down now, on both knees. Trying to brace himself with one arm against the ground. Trying to push himself up.

This wasn't what he'd wanted. But at the same time, it kind of was. He'd grown weary, and telling him off made him feel filthy. But… not in a bad way. Like in a self-serving, egotistical way that gave some strange kind of pleasure.

He just couldn't carry that weight. The weight of them combined. He felt disserved by him, for him not seeing this. For him to constantly depend on him to be there. For him to assume that he'd pick him up and piece him back. Also, for him adding more and more to a back that was about to break.

"Can't you just see that I'm at my limit?" He thought out loud. Saying it made a difference within him, like an unrest finally settled. Like things got put back into place.

He walked past the bedroom, keeping himself from looking. He couldn't help feeling a little curious, but he managed. He decided to change clothes, wear something else that wasn't tainted by the day's events.

As he passed the bedroom again, he stopped. Just briefly. He sat in the same position, still looking away. He didn't acknowledge that he stood there in the doorway. He was still holding his own.

" _Makka, come_." It was a conscious choice, speaking Russian. The poodle jumped down from the bed, trotted behind him as they walked towards the front door. Together, they went for a walk like so many times before. As always when something was on his mind.

* * *

He heard the front door open and close. The sound of him leaving brought on a lot of opposing feelings. He suddenly relaxed when it became safe to shift, change his pose. But at the same time, a tension built up inside. Strangely enough.

He felt responsible for what happened, even though he, somewhere deep inside, figured that Victor was to blame. At least for some of it. He felt like he'd chased him off, and couldn't understand why he suddenly acted so cold towards him. It wasn't like before, when his own emotions acted like a beck and call, something that drew Victor in. When he would respond with warmth and an eagerness to make everything better.

As the familiar feeling started to pick and prod, making his heart beat irregularly and making it hard to breathe, bringing on that quaking sensation everywhere, he felt more distressed than usual. If he wasn't going to be there, what would that make him? Not just alone, but… really, what would he be? What was he? _What am I without you?_

Even though he knew, although he wouldn't let that thought stay for more than a heartbeat in his mind, that they were going down a road where its end led to something irreversible, it felt like he couldn't understand it. The whole concept was beyond him, like trying to figure out the vastness of the universe or some other cliché. His mind couldn't make the thought stay long enough for it to be thoroughly dissected. He doubted he would ever get to that realisation.

What was he going to do when he returned, was it wise to approach him? He was probably expecting some kind of apology but, in all honesty, there was none to give. He had said exactly how he felt in that particular moment in time, and the one responsible for those words wasn't him. It was Victor. _He brought this on himself._

He felt apprehensive to leave the bedroom, but he did anyway. He felt parched after being tense, felt a throb in his temples. He was quick about it, getting that glass of water and taking something for the headache that was building up. He noticed that Victor had indeed brought home what he'd sought after earlier, and felt a sting of guilt. Suddenly, he wanted to apologise. Suddenly, he felt even more responsible. Suddenly, he realised that he was at fault.

He couldn't stop that wet blanket of remorse from wrapping itself all around him. Constricting him, suffocating him. As he sat down on the floor, too incapacitated to do anything else, he heard the door open.

' _If you are going to cry, then I'd prefer if you did it somewhere else.'_

He tried to keep it in, he really wanted to pull off what he'd been told to do, but he failed.

And for the first time in the moments that followed, Yuuri had the experience of what it would be like to be all alone.


	25. Year One: Autumn, part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

On the way back, his phone rang. He contemplated not answering but the caller seemed persistent, making his ringtone loop time and time again. Finally, he gave in. Not paying attention to the name on the display.

"Yes?" He was surprised that he still had the sharpness of anger in his voice.

"Hey, Victor. What, is that the way you talk to your friends?"

His voice made him choke up. He knew instantly why he'd called and that more calls would probably come. Of course, it was probably spreading like wildfire.

"Hi, buddy." He tried his best to sound normal. Unaffected by his day, unaffected by what transpired at him, mere moments ago.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking the dog. Hey, I know why you're calling me. Let's not pretend this is a courtesy call."

"Heh, well… Rumor has it you retired today. What the hell, Victor? Why?"

"Yes, I did. Why? Well, that'sㅡ"

"You could have said something, _poutain_. Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, I just haven't told anybody. But I should have, there's no excuse. And, well… No. No, I'm not okay."

"Hey, you're worrying me! What's wrong?"

"Have you seen anything at all? Like, online?"

"Wh… online? No, I haven't. Seriously, Victor, what's this about?"

He paused a little. Feeling grateful that people had yet to start asking questions. He still had some time. But the bubble was about to pop, without a doubt. "That's good, at least. Well, buddy… I hate to tell you this, but I'm… I'm sick, you know?"

"What? Sick? Don't joke around. Wait, so this isn't a hiatus? You've really quit? You're not coming back?"

"Well, it's kind of fucked up… But I won't be, no. There's no way."

"Are you fucking with me right now? Tell me you are fucking kidding!" His voice was getting more high-pitched with every syllable. That felt uncomfortable. He knew he couldn't contain it if he started to get emotional.

"No. Listen, there's no way. I can't come back. Ever." He paused. Thinking if he should make it perfectly clear. He decided that it was probably for the best. He switched language, decided to speak French just to keep some kind of privacy. " _I have cancer. I'm… I'm dying, Chris."_ It became silent on the other end.

He lowered the hand he held the phone with. He felt that loathsome quiver. He took a deep breath and let it out really slow. This wasn't going to be easy. And… this was the first time he'd said it out loud. To anyone else.

He went inside the building and walked over to the lift. He put the phone back to his ear. "Hey, you still there?" He pressed the button, feeling horrible inside. He just continued making people feel bad. Not considering their feelings at all.

The silence became broken, hearing sniffs and the same quivering whimpers he himself had been desperate trying to hide from Christophe just a few moments ago. "Hey, are you crying? Please, please just don't." His voice sounded weak. Much like himself.

"Wh… what the fuck, Victor?! How long have you known?!"

It was hard understanding him. Hearing his shaking voice, the small noises of bereavement made him fight the urge of hanging up. It was enough already, dealing with _him._ He tried to find that otherworldly cool, the one that could make him talk about it like it was something mundane. Something trivial. "Since March, it's in both lungs apparently. That's what you get for treating your body like it's special."

"So, at Worlds…"

"Yes, I already knew when we met at Worlds. Not that I'm going to… but yes. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I couldn't tell you." _I still hadn't told_ him _then._ The lift dinged and he walked inside. Pressing the button to his floor.

The silence became unbearable, only interrupted by the ding of the lift as it reached his floor. He walked out and headed for the door. He found the keys in his pocket and looked for the right one to push into the lock.

"Hang on for a minute. Also, we're speaking French as of now, _d'accord_?"

He opened the door and let Makkachin go in before he juggled his phone and keys as he took off his shoes and coat. _He's not going to get the satisfaction of understanding this._

* * *

" _I'm back. You there?"_

Yuuri held his breath as he saw him walk past the kitchen, not noticing him sitting on the floor. He wiped away the wetness on his cheeks.

The fact that he was speaking French hurt him. He could almost guess who he was speaking with. The fact that he was talking to someone else rather than him... _No, don't. Keep it in, he'll get angry._

He heard the telltale sound of him sitting down on the sofa, sighing as he reclined.

" _Come again? Oh, how_ he _is doing? Well, as you might expect. Horribly. We even fought earlier, I just_ ㅡ

" _Of course it is! Hard is a goddamn understatement! I never thought that he would react like that, we've had this conversation before. He told me that I don't care if he skates or not. I mean, he couldn't be more wrong. That's all I care about!_

" _I know. Yes, I know. No, of course he's scared._

" _I don't know. I'm just so tired. Every treatment leaves me wrung out, feels like it's not worth it at times, you know._

" _One more, then a break._

" _Until it shows up again, I guess? The fuck do I know. Hey, during the break, can we meet?"_

He wanted to be included. Wanted him to acknowledge him so that he could apologise. It felt like he was doing his best not to let him in, not even noticing him. Speaking in French. Punishing him for before. He stood up and hesitantly moved towards the sofa.

" _I'd love that. I'll have the last one in three weeks or so. After that and Skate Canada, I should be able to plan something. I hope."_

He saw his beanie on the floor, he bent over and picked it up. It took all the courage he could muster to walk over and sit down next to him. Not too close. He got the briefest glance as he did.

" _Yes, I'll try to go with him. Hey, wait a second."_

He dared to touch his arm, just a little. Asking him to notice him. He wanted desperately for him to make him feel that he was indeed there, that he was a person. The response he got was devastating.

"I'm on the phone."

Their eyes met and there was no warmth in his at all. Like he was totally indifferent, like the butcher approaching the rabbit that was about to get skinned. He decided to give up, so he stood up and walked into the bedroom. Hoping that he would come to him, eventually. Like he always did. Tonight was different, though.

* * *

The orbited around each other for the rest of the evening. Both of them feeling that gravitational pull, but not getting any closer.

It was hard to tell if they made serious attempts. Yuuri actively sought out solitude initially, but made some tentative tries getting closer. Trying to make the ice melt. As soon as he was met by resistance, he pulled back and withdrew into himself.

Victor, on the other hand, was stoic. Inexorable in his decision to keep him away. Once, with a voice that sounded uncommitting, he asked if he had eaten anything. And that was all he left him with, not following up on his question.

With their backs against each other, they lay in bed. Both wanted to say much, both wanted to make it undone. But at the same time, they shared a sense of pride. None of them willing to take a first serious step. It was a strange silent agreement.

"Who am I, really," Yuuri finally asked. He couldn't take it anymore. He longed for him, everything about him. Even though he never played with that exact thought, he knew that they couldn't wait. That time was too short, not on their side. He heard Victor inhale sharply through his nose, seemingly holding his breath afterwards. He let it out with a sigh, eventually.

"You're you, of course." It sounded like he'd caught his interest, that his question had been interesting. Surprising. Undoubtedly, it was the best approach to make him thaw.

"I… I hear you say that, but it's… It really isn't that easy."

He stayed silent. It was always hard reading him when he was quiet. Was he waiting for him to continue? Trying to make him stumble on his way? No, he was interested, of that he was sure. He just needed to keep him that way.

"I can't really explain this," Yuuri continued. "It's like… you're taking something away from me. Something I need to understand."

"Understand? What do you need to understand?" Yes. He was really curious now.

"You are my context, Victor."

He heard him turn around behind him, he could feel his gaze all of a sudden. He laughed, seemingly amused by his choice of words.

He decided to let it pass, became occupied with trying to find the words so that he could make him understand. Get acquainted with the one thing about him that Victor never had to deal with before. Not until now.

"It's what I said when we were in Japan. I've always looked up to you. Crazy maybe, but you've always been my centre. And… as long as I am skating, I need you. I need you to stay the same. Without you, you not being there in the same way, it just… won't work."

"I'm still here."

His breath caressed the nape of his neck. It sent chills down his spine, chills of satisfaction. He tried to block that sensation out, now wasn't the time. Not at all.

"No. It really is different. I've been thinking a lot about this and… well, what I'm trying to say is that I just don't know." He felt the familiar feeling of emotions digging through him. Trying to make him do what he'd been told not to in front of him. He bit his lower lip, hoping that it would aid him to keep it all in.

"I just don't know who I am. Not without you."


	26. Year One: Autumn, part six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

' _I just don't know who I am. Not without you.'_

He thought about his words. Tasted them in his mind. And the impulse to ask just one question appeared. "This is not about the skating at all, is it? It's ultimately about _you._ "

The question hit home, and he could only watch as Yuuri wailed into his pillow. It became a release, and with that, it all fell into place. Why he had accused him of not caring. Why he had said that there wasn't a point with him skating. Why he had gotten so incredibly distraught over something that was inevitable. Victor understood it now, fully, wholeheartedly. And it hurt. The pain he felt, the guilt he felt, was raw, coursing through his veins. Burning him from the inside. In brief moment of helplessness, he decided that he would gladly take another six months worth of chemo if he was guaranteed to never experience that pain ever again.

_He's built his identity around me and now, he's lost! Because of me. Because of me disrupting everything. Because of me getting caught up in things outside of my control!_

He came closer. The familiar feeling of his shivering back against his own chest. That exact feeling he'd been dreading, the feeling he was getting more and more fed up with day by day, just… got washed away. He knew he had it in him. He still could carry them both, if only for a little while.

He put his cheek against his, sharing Yuuri's shed tears between them. Put one arm around him to console. There was so much he wanted to tell him, ask him. In that moment, however, it felt incredibly wrong. Their pain was enough.

And suddenly, Victor realised that Yuuri wasn't only mourning him. He was also mourning himself.

* * *

After a while, they rediscovered each other. It was a beautiful moment of quietude, hearing nothing but each other's calm breaths. Being close felt different. Like they were both filled with a new kind of understanding for one another. Realising that their feelings and motives weren't that different, although they manifested themselves in very contrasting ways. Realising the importance of having access to each other, not denying that life-sustaining intimacy.

He loved the feel of those hands of his, holding on to his back through his clothes. He answered every small movement against him with pulling him closer, using both arms and legs. He wanted to catch up from before, trying to erase all that was said, all that was done. Feeling ashamed for the way he had treated him. For letting things get the best of him.

"Are you hungry?"

It was the first sentence spoken in quite some time. This time, the question was delivered with warmth. Not like before, when he'd been exasperated.

He felt a nod against his shoulder.

"Still up for pizza? It's been out all day, you think it's still good?"

"I'll go and heat it up. It's probably fine." His voice was muffled. He entangled himself from him, slowly. Hesitantly, almost.

"I'll come with you."

Together, they waited for the oven to heat up. Not really saying anything, just… enjoying each other's company, standing with their backs against the kitchen island.

Their fingers touched slightly, became locked together. A little tentative attempt to see where they were, where they had each other. With that, they knew that it was okay. That they were okay. At least for now.

Victor loved small invitations like that, they made all the difference. Especially after all the previous events that had taken place. He put a couple of fingers through one of the belt loops of Yuuri's jeans and pulled him closer, resting his arms on his shoulders when he lined up in front of him. Sometimes, that was more than enough. Just looking into each other's eyes, making everything else cease to matter for a moment.

"I'm sorry." They spoke in unison. Like reflections of one another, they shared a smile. One pulled, the other pushed, until they couldn't get any closer.

"I love you," Yuuri said. "I'm sorry."

"I love you too. I really, really do." He buried his nose in his hair. "Yuuri, is there anything I can do? I feel helpless. I want to make it easier, somehow." It felt strange talking about what had happened. What was going to happen, maybe? It was a first, he wasn't sure what the reaction would be.

Reassuringly, the embrace became tighter. "I… don't know. I wish I knew, but I don't." He looked up. "I just want you to stay."

_Stay? No… we won't do this right now. We've had more than enough._

He pushed him away, just a little. He wanted to see the emotion behind the words. Those eyes conveyed an insecurity he wanted to be erased. As he decided to make an effort to make it so, leaning in to feel his softness against his lips, he laughed. "Hey, the oven's warm!"

Feeling the collar of his shirt gently dig into the back of his neck, feeling that pull and the question it inevitably brought with it, made him forget about their already belated dinner.

* * *

"You didn't eat much." Yuuri's voice brought him back from his slumber. Maybe those trailing hands had something to do with it too.

He didn't know what to respond. It was the new normal, not enjoying food. The taste of it. But he had humored him, or at least tried to. Giving whatever he couldn't stomach to a very happy dog. In a childish attempt to steer the conversation away, he put a hand on his naked back, drawing some indistinct patterns with his fingers against his skin. _It worked perfectly._

"You… it was Chris earlier, wasn't it?"

Or not.

"Yes, it was Chris."

"He got the news, somehow?"

"Of course. He's always on top of things. Literally."

"Victor!" Yuuri's cheeks heated up a little. His most adorable trait, by far.

He laughed. Kissed whatever part of him that he could reach. "It's true though. He's always updated."

Yuuri became silent for a while. Seemingly gathering up some courage before he spoke again. "Did you tell him… you know, everything?"

Victor wanted to leave everything associated with today's events far away, but he decided to meet him where he was. By answering his questions truthfully.

"Yes, I did."

"Oh… And what did he…"

"He became… surprised. Sad, I guess. Angry too, maybe?" _Just like you._

"I see…"

"You know what? When I'm off chemo, what about doing something fun for a change? After the Grand Prix final?"

"Hey, I'm not even in the final." He put his head against his chest. "Yet."

Victor beamed. "There you go, Yuuri! Confident, all of a sudden. It suits you!"

"Stop, you're being silly!"

"Pfft, not at all. Also, it's your birthday soon!"

"...and yours too."

The silence that spread out said a lot. But still, not enough.

"Love, please. Just… don't, okay?"

"I can't help it. What if… what if it'll be—"

"Yuuri!" He corrected himself instantly. He had sounded way too harsh. "Darling, just don't. Please don't." _If it is, I'm... sure you'll make it worth my while._

A silence filled up the room. Of course, Yuuri's not finished question was a question that was important. Terrifying, debilitating, harrowing. But still, important. Talking about two extremes in the same sentence like that, a celebration and a valediction, it just felt so wrong. Like it was too early. Like he wasn't…

"Hey, Victor?"

"Hm?"

"These are new?"

"What?" He tried to look where Yuuri was tapping him, far back on his right shoulder.

"These spots? There are so many."

"Oh? I think they are. Haven't noticed them before." Of course, he'd stopped looking himself in the mirror. Keeping it to an absolute minimum. As a result, he'd never seen them before.

"Is it… do you… Can it be in your blood too? In your skin?" He sounded agitated. Like his voice was nothing but mere seconds away from becoming hysterical.

"I don't know what it is," he started. Trying his best to be as calm and collected as he possibly could. "But I can't call the doctor now. Nothing will happen if we wait until morning."

Yuuri's eyes were vibrating. Like he was trying to believe what he'd just been told, but the emotions within had already shown him that he was right. Shown him that his worst fears were coming true without giving him any time to prepare.

"Hey!" Victor put his hands on both sides of Yuuri's face. Trying to make him snap out of it. "It can wait, just a few hours more. Nothing will happen. Okay?" He felt cold inside. It would indeed be one of life's cruel jokes if Yuuri was right. What if this was… it? What if there wouldn't be a break? What if it would continue, but more bloodthirsty and ravaging than before?

"I need to google it, Victor!" Yuuri scrambled for his phone. "Wh… what do I type?! What am I supposed to search for?!"

"Calm down. Hey…" He put one hand on his thigh as he sat upright, tense with his phone in his hands. "Yuuri? I'll do it. Put yours away, okay?"

Victor tried hard not to let his own anxiety shine through. He did a multiple of searches, but they all showed the same thing.

"So?!" Yuuri was still not collected.

"Okay, so…" Victor exhaled. "It's most likely due to the chemo."

"Wh… what else can it be?"

"It can be anemia. Or an enlarged spleen. Or… leukemia. Or… HIV?" He looked at Yuuri. He knew that the last option was out of the question, they were careful. They, or at least Victor, had tested himself before and hadn't been with anyone after that. Not until he met Yuuri. He knew for a fact that he'd been Yuuri's first. The other ones… well, needless to say, it started a stir inside him.

"Yuuri?" He tried to make their eyes meet. He had to force him to look him in the eye. "It's the chemo. I know it. I'll call tomorrow, but I don't want you to worry. Trust me on this, okay?" He sounded convincing, he almost believed himself and that fake calm.

That night, neither of them dared to fall asleep. When they eventually did, succumbing to their bodies' needs to process and rebuild, they dreamed. Seeing images of decaying bodies, dying bodies, suffering bodies. Also, they were experiencing feelings that were all too real, although in their sleep. Trying desperately to hold on to one another but constantly being ripped apart. Time and time again, in a seemingly endless punishment. Leaving each other scared. Distraught. And all alone. Without any time to prepare.


	27. Year One: Autumn, part seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

He had a really hard time going back to sleep. After waking up for the third time in almost as many hours, he gave in. He decided not to try and force it anymore. He sat up, put his arms around his legs and pulled them closer. He put his cheek against his knees and glanced over at him.

He was sleeping, still. Although not peacefully. He shifted some, his breathing was slightly irregular. Maybe he was having a nightmare?

_I wonder what this is like for you. I… see what it does to you but I don't know what you think. Or what you feel. You just give me small bits and pieces, every now and then. When you're tired. When you're angry. And… as hard as it is to admit it, I'm… not so sure if I can cope with it. Knowing all of it. I wish I could, but… Oh, Victor. I'm so sorry._

He watched him as he finally settled, sleeping on his stomach. The duvet was caught underneath him, exposing his back.

He was definitely getting thinner, Yuuri could tell. His back had been extremely chiseled and now, there wasn't much muscle tone left. It was the same with his shoulders and arms. And not only were they… he hated to think that they were wasting away although that's what it felt like, looking at him, but they now were covered in those little red spots too. Those spots were the reason he was awake now, worrying about him. Worrying about them.

He got close, pulling his duvet over both of them. He put one leg across his lower back and rested his head against his shoulder. He wanted to get even closer, but he was afraid that too much snuggling would wake him. He decided that it was fine the way it was. At least, he was with him.

* * *

It was a surprise waking up, having him almost entirely on top of himself. They must have been sleeping like this for some time, he could feel his body ache from being pinned down. Forced into immobility by the weight of everything he couldn't be without. It was definitely worth it, he decided for himself. This kind of pain was something else, a proof of affection and a yearning for closeness. Maybe it was the result of a downplayed need for comfort as well?

He tried to get a hold of his phone from where he was, but ended up short. He decided to wiggle loose. He couldn't reach his phone with him being draped around him like that and he had to make that call.

"Ngh…" Yuuri made a soft noise, as his head slid off his shoulder. But he didn't wake.

He decided to head for the kitchen to let him sleep undisturbed. Before he left his side, he kissed that little dip where his neck and shoulder met. Hoping for the meeting to imbibe him with strength.

It felt like it was successful, at least until he turned on his phone and saw the social media notifications, missed calls and unread texts. The first thought that crossed his mind was to throw it against the wall. Hoping it would shatter, instead of him, upon impact. He regained his composure somewhat, and began squeezing it so hard that the phone case creaked. _I hate this. I fucking hate this!_ He decided to make all those glaring circles with numbers inside them to disappear, quickly without having to read, listen or look at anything that had made them pop up in the first place. He wouldn't be able to use his phone if he had to see them there for a second longer.

After quickly entering all appropriate apps, doing his best not to actively look at any mentions, direct messages, texts and e-mails, he went through his contacts to find the number to Dr. Popyrin. He picked up instantly.

"Mikhail Popyrin, speaking."

"Hi, Doctor. It's Victor. Nikifo—"

"Hello, Victor. You're calling early this morning."

"Yes, I… I know we saw each other not so long ago but I… I must ask you something."

"Certainly. Just to let you know, I'm in a bit of a hurry so I must ask you to keep it brief if you can."

"Yes. It's… Um, my husband noticed something on me yesterday. I have red spots on my skin, apparently, and after googling it I, or he, rather, felt nervous, so…"

"Just a minute, let me look at the blood panel, okay? I remember you were really low in platelets before this cycle…" Some keyboard presses later, the doctor resumed. "Oh, that's right. You were in the lower fifties-range. Hm, fifties, huh? So, you've noticed them during this last week?"

"Yes. Or, he did."

"You know what? I'm certain it's because of the chemo, you had your last one in this cycle so very recent. You told me about the nosebleeds too… Let's make a deal, come in when you have time. We'll do another panel."

"Thank you. Can I come in today?"

"Absolutely. I'm not going to see you, but I'll call you as soon as the results are in. Does that sound good to you?"

"Mhm. So, it's the chemo?"

"I'm positive. We haven't seen anything strange on your panels. Are you worried about something else?"

"Worried? Well… You know how it works when you google, right?"

"Rest assured, Victor. It's the chemo."

"Okay, so… Thank you. I'll try to come in today."

"Please do. Then, I'll talk to you after the weekend. First thing on Monday, okay?"

"Yes. Thank you so much. Bye."

"Take care of yourself, Victor. Bye now."

As he put down the phone on the kitchen island, he noticed that his hand was shaking. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that he'd escaped something. With just a second to spare.

* * *

He was quick to return to bed, not caring if he woke him up or not. He needed him, and he needed him now. That shaking that had found its way out, all the way to his skin, just wouldn't subside. He wanted him to ground him, tear that feeling away with the help of his hands on him.

Since the dog had rolled over to his side of the bed, it became impossible not to wake him. He shamelessly slid on top of him and buried his face into the side of his neck. He couldn't kiss him. It felt as if he was shuddering, no, quaking, whenever he pursed his lips and got close.

"Nnngh, Victor… Can't breathe… off me…" Yuuri mumbled into his ear before opening his eyes.

To Victor, it felt like the longest time before he got to see them. But when he finally got his chance, it felt like the world slowed down a bit. Giving him a chance to catch up and… fall into place again. As his hands touched his face, almost asking for permission, it felt like he was guided into another state of mind by them. Ending up in a place he never wanted to leave.

"Good morning, Yuuri."

"Good morning, Victor." He raised his head to greet him, apparently wanting him to be the very first thing he tasted in the morning. It made Victor weak inside, overwhelmed by a warm and encapsulating feeling. The one he had sought to find, ever since he ended that call.

As they met, infected by each other's smiles to the extent that their teeth touched more than their lips, Yuuri was quick to ask him about the phone call.

"Victor," he said tentatively, "have you… called? You know, the doctor? Today?"

"I have." He trailed a couple of kisses along his jawline. "It's the chemo. He was sure."

He wasn't expecting him to react the way he did. He thought that he would be relieved, happy even, but the tears came anyway. He did the best he could to catch them, before they escaped down his cheeks and into his hair.

"Yuuri? It's okay, you hear?"

It pained him to see him bare his teeth, clenching them tight to not make any sounds escape him. He wanted to turn his head away it seemed, to hide the emotions manifesting themselves on his face.

"It's okay, Yuuri. I'm okay and… this is okay too." _He's trying to make it easier. Because of what I said before._ "If it makes you feel better, just do it. You don't have to act brave."

But he was trying, Victor could tell. He was desperately trying to be brave, in a strangely endearing way. In a feeble attempt to raise his arm, to make one last try to protect him from the feelings rippling just underneath his skin, the elbow touched his face on its way up. Just a little too hard. It made Yuuri's defences crumble when he noticed what he'd done. Apparently, he couldn't stand being brave anymore. The arm became limp, the emotions started to flow in their liquid form.

He sat up, covering his nose as he felt the trickle started. One drop had already escaped his fingers. Fallen on his cheek, making a beautiful crimson swirl as it got caught in the stream of tears. He couldn't help himself seeing the symbolism. It was as if they were painting a picture together.

"Shit. Don't worry, love. It's not your fault," he said as he scooted over to the nightstand. He found the little tube of gel and squeezed its contents into his nose.

Yes. A stunning picture, indeed. One of life, love, and loss.


	28. Year One: Autumn, part eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

What a wonderful thing to witness. Those wobbly steps he took, although still leaning heavily on him. It was something that made him feel like coming at him, just shower him with the love and admiration he felt inside. Pour it over him, smother him. He wanted him know how much it meant to him. That he came with him. That he was there, by his side.

Sure, he was hesitant. Wary, almost. As if he wasn't sure that the reality one of them resided in was something he could handle. But he had decided to test his boundaries, and that was enough. Not only enough, it was everything. At least to him.

"Thank you," Victor whispered as the nurse removed the butterfly needle, wiped the back of his hand clean with the alcohol swab and put on a band aid. It wasn't meant for her though. The way his other hand was squeezed told him that he'd heard him. That he tried his best to lighten his burden.

"There, you're good to go," the nurse said as she turned the tubes containing his blood upside down and back again, repeatedly. "The doctor will call you next week with the results."

* * *

They decided to walk home, feel the sun on their faces and breathe the crisp air. Not caring about how long it would take, how many stops they would make on the way.

The first stop was to get coffee. Victor was quick to declare that he needed something warm, and entered the first café they came across. He came out eventually, with two paper cups and handed over one of them to Yuuri. With coffee in one hand and entwined fingers around the other, they carried on.

"You know what?" He just had to tell him how much he appreciated him. His selfless gesture, his way of telling him that he wanted to try and share not only the good with him, but also the bad.

Yuuri swallowed the sip of coffee before he spoke. "No, what?"

Those eyes were something else. They were relaxed now, not at all like before when they had been wary. He loved seeing him like that, that he could be relaxed around him. That there was a chance that he wasn't that natural disaster he considered himself to be.

"I love you. I love you so much, Yuuri."

The second stop was to kiss. To let go of each other's hands and find other places to let them rest upon instead. He felt his muffler put pressure on the back of his neck as his own hands ended up in his hair, pulling him closer. Coffee tasted better when it was shared with him, when it could be tasted off of him.

When he felt his hands tugging at his beanie, he had to break it off. Leave the softness that played against his lips. There was a slight feeling of self consciousness there as soon as he noticed his hands around his head, but more importantly, there was a pull inside that could end up turning into something else. Something more. Something that was intended just for them.

"I think I dropped my cup," he heard him whisper, cheeks flushed because of the cold or their audience.

"It doesn't matter," he answered with a chuckle, trailing his thumb along his lower lip. "Thank you for today, for coming with me. It meant the world to me."

He never answered with words, just with a smile that made the warmth of the coffee feel obsolete.

* * *

They shared the remaining coffee, getting closer to home with every step. They had been quiet for a while, walking hand in hand without the need to say anything. When they eventually spoke, they did so at the same time.

"Go ahead," Yuuri excused himself with a laugh.

"No, tell me. What's on your mind?"

"I just… wanted to know if you've read anything. Like, online?"

Victor felt torn. He didn't feel like talking about it, the reactions to his public reveal, but then again… Yuuri wanted to. Strange, how he always came to his own small realisations in the strangest of times. Catching him off guard. Surprising him.

It felt important to him to meet him when he did. Even if it meant that he was giving up his own integrity, leaving his own defences unmanned. It rarely happened, that Yuuri wanted to face his fears connected to the situation they were in, which made it even more pressing that he got the chance to do so. So, Victor caved in. Met him where he was.

"No, I haven't. Not a thing."

"Oh…" He paused. "Um… Social media, then? What about that?"

He put his arm around him, doing his best to act normal although it was a diversion. A definite smoke and mirrors-routine with the sole purpose of not letting him understand how he felt about that question.

"Well… I saw a lot of notifications this morning, but I never read any of them."

"Do you… or, um… are you going to? You think?"

"Yuuri… Tell me what you've read." _I really don't want to hear this. Please, Yuuri._

"So, uh… I looked at the hashtag on Instagram, you got another one now you know, and people are… Victor, they're sad to see you lea… no, retire. There are tribute clips and stuff already uploaded, so…"

_What did he say?_ "Tribute clips?" _Don't tell me they've figured it out?_

"Yeah. They are lovely too. 'Congratulations on your retirement', 'You'll always be our Living Legend'. Stuff like that." He paused, briefly. "Also, they are posting their favorite routines. It's… I mean, it's not just I who loves you."

He felt a sting underneath his eyelids. He never thought about that. _That_ aspect of him retiring. No… leaving. He was leaving. Eventually.

"Th… that sounds lovely." He cursed himself for stuttering as he tried to bite back the tears that were teasing him.

"If you want, we could watch them together?"

_Oh… Yuuri! Please, love, why would you even say such a thing?!_

"Victor?"

"Oh, sorry. I… was somewhere else for a second." He found his hand again and squeezed it. Tried not to sound distraught or accusing. "We could do that. At some point." _Why did I say that?_

The answer seemed to please him. His brown eyes lit up as he looked at him, before he broke the contact.

"Hey, Yuuri?" He figured he might as well ask him. About… what he was dreading. When the magician's prestige is revealed to the world.

"Hm?" He turned his head a little.

"Have you read anything... else?"

"I, uh..."

_Of course he has!_

The third stop was to grab his shoulder, make him come to a standstill. To make him understand that he could guess, and most probably would get it right, what people were saying. And that it mattered to him that he kept it to himself. For some time longer. Or at least for now.

The eyes that shied away as they stood in front of each other hurt him. He understood now that he was asking questions just to see where he was. If he knew. And ultimately, how he would have to act around him, what he could say and do.

He suddenly felt betrayed. Without thinking, just following that impulse, he asked him about the one thing he never wanted to find out.

"So, Yuuri. Do they know?"

The seconds felt like years. Like the world had come to a standstill, like every single movement was made to get etched into his memory with a disgusting precision.

His hand found his face and it felt… reassuring. His lips found his and they gave him the same feeling. _They don't. Not yet. There's still time._

* * *

It became off limits. Talking about what was there. Or rather, what probably was there. Victor asked Yuuri to take his phone and disable all the notifications, he obliged without even batting an eye.

He hated the prickling paranoia. Like it was some kind of mindgame. He tried to reason with himself, time and time again. If Yuuri had seen something, read something, he wouldn't be able to keep it together. That's how he was. He would crumble, show him that the world was onto him without deliberately saying anything. Or, that is what he was trying to make himself believe.

The fourth stop was all about making it stop. Shed the uncertainties. Getting back the sliver of control that was still there, just out of reach.

As Yuuri was doing the dishes, he approached him. Slid his arms around him, whilst tasting his neck. "Be honest with me." He let out a sad sigh against his skin.

He watched as he turned the tap off. Felt his cheek as he leaned back against him. "What do you want me to say," he breathed.

"If there's just you and me in this for a little while longer."

"I think… I think it is. At least for now."

He realised that he just wanted it to stop.


	29. Year One: Autumn, part nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

It felt like he was pacing, like an animal in a too small a cage. Waiting for reality to knock on his door. Waiting for the clear skies to darken.

The weekend had raced by. It had been quiet, one could even describe it as restful. And now that it was gone, lost due to seconds and longer moments passing by without mercy, it left a feeling of tension behind. Unrest.

He didn't recognise the feeling. The feeling of wanting to do so much but not being able to. Just because it wasn't in his control. It wasn't in his hands. None of it was. It felt as if he'd been diminished, somehow. That all he once was had been watered down to a silent passenger without the chance of taking the wheel. He wanted it to change. He wanted that control.

He wanted that call to emancipate him. Somewhere inside, he found it silly to hope. Hope for all of those things that used to be him to… return? The passion, the whimsy, the confidence, the joie-de-vivre. They rarely shone through, although he did his best. To convince himself as much as he tried to convince others.

"Victor?" Yuuri's sleepy voice from the bedroom. He wasn't up still. He had a late practise today. "Come to bed, you're making me nervous."

Of course he was making him nervous. Walking around, fidgeting. Not being able to feel that he had a context anymore. He stopped as soon as that thought passed through his mind. _Is this what he feels when he feels lost?_

He wanted to keep that thought readily available, he wanted to sort it out somehow, but as soon as his phone rang, it became lost. Lost due to seconds passing by.

He answered with apprehension. "Hi, this is Victor."

"Hello Victor, it's Mikhail Popyrin."

_He's always introducing himself like that. Like I need to be reminded of who he is. No one else looms over me like he is._

"I'm calling you with the results. Had a good weekend, I hope?"

"Yes. And yes, it was good. Slow, I'd say."

"It's nice to have days like that too, don't you think? So, on to the matter at hand. I've got your results here and I'm a bit concerned."

He felt cold. In the exact same way as when he'd first met the man. The doctor. The oncologist. The man with the knowledge of his life in his hands. He knew he had to say something, to make the doctor understand that he was still there. "Concerned?"

"Yes, well… Your platelets are dropping, still. Seems like your body's getting fatigued. I'm afraid we'll have to postpone this last cycle, just for a couple of weeks. And before you ask, yes, it's the reason for your spots."

He didn't understand. _Delay? But I was doing okay? I was supposed to have a break?_

"Victor?"

"I, um… What, fatigue? What…"

"It happens on occasion when a patient is on chemo. The bone marrow gets damaged and the production gets faulty as a result. That is what's going on with you. All it really means is that you'll have to wait a bit longer for your last cycle. Before your break."

"But… I was supposed to go! There's a competition and I—"

"Victor, listen. As your doctor, I'll have to stop you there. It's out of the question this time."

"Wait, what?"

"Your platelet count is really low. As a oncologist, as a doctor, I'm forbidding you to go. I understand that it's not what you want to hear, I can tell you sound upset, but it's—

"Of course I am upset! I…" _I don't want to go, but I want to be the one making that decision for myself!_

"Listen, last time we took a blood test, you were in the fifties range. You remember that we spoke of this, no? It's below forty now, Victor. You really can't go. I'm sorry. It's dangerous, okay?"

He felt a tremble inside. That control he so desperately wanted, it was nowhere to be seen. Intangible.

With a voice that was low, filled with anger and a lot of sadness too, he continued. "What does this mean? Really?"

"You just need a bit more time off the chemo between these two cycles, that's all. You'll bounce back, it'll just take a little more time. And afterwards, you'll have your break. Okay?" That reassuring voice took off a bit of the edge. The doctor was silent for a couple of seconds before he continued. In the same kind of voice that just wanted to mend. "No travelling. No flying. I want you to take care of yourself, take it easy. Rest. It's just for a little while longer."

He cleared his throat. He wanted to respond but it was impossible. Like his chest was in a vise.

"Just a little longer, Victor. We'll be keeping a close eye on you, so you'll have to leave blood once every week now. Okay?"

He realised that he was nodding. He made a low hum instead. That, he could do, barely being able to breathe.

"Come in later this week. We'll talk a bit if you'd like."

"... appreciate it." _Shit. Shit. Shit. I don't want this call to end, everything will... I don't… no, I can't deal with this, it's closing in around me!_

"See you then. Take care, Victor. Bye."

He didn't return the pleasantry.

* * *

How he'd managed to fall asleep again was beyond him. He'd heard him walk around for quite some time, not being able to relax. He'd called out to him, asked him to get back with him in bed. It was around that time he'd dozed off, after begging him to come and slightly after he thought he heard his phone ring.

And now, he was woken up as he felt Victor drop like a sack of stones next to him.

He was quick to roll over to his side, get as close as he possibly could. Holding on to what was his. He felt sleepy again, resting his head against his shoulder. He loved sleeping like that, feeling Victor's warmth seep into him.

He head Victor speak into his pillow. He was face down in bed, apparently.

"What? Turn your head a little, I can't hear you," he mumbled as he tried to piece together the distorted sounds of his husband's voice.

"I'm not going with you."

"Eh?" He suddenly felt wide awake. "Not going where?"

"Skate Canada. I'm not allowed to go. I'm not well enough."

He clambered on top of him, over him, he wanted to see his face but he had it turned the other way.

"You're hurting me, take it easy!" Victor's voice sounded annoyed. Upset.

He got over to the other side, saw those blue eyes blinking over and over.

"What do you mean, 'not well enough'?" _He said he was fine? A couple of days ago, it was okay? He was doing good!_ He put his hand on his naked back, leaned in as close as he possible could. That's when he felt it. How tense he was. Like he was… holding back?

"I'm not allowed to travel, to fly."

"But… what is this?" A debilitating fear suddenly washed over him, clawing at him, wanting him to succumb to its depths. "H… have you been lying to me? Victor?"

"Get off me." Too low for anyone to hear.

"Wh… what?"

"Yuuri, get off me! Get off me! Take your hand off me, right now!"

"You're scaring me! What is this?!" Seeing him, feeling him pull away from his hand made him sob. It just came over him, like an instinct more than anything else. That hand that was heated up thanks to the warmth of his back flew up to his face, to his mouth.

"I'M NOT WELL ENOUGH TO GO OKAY?! I'm just not well enough to go…" That last vowel became a drawn out cry, growing inaudible the longer it continued.

He wasn't prepared for that, not at all. It rendered him defenseless too, seeing his context, his foundation crumble. "Vi… Victor, please! Please…" _Not now, I need you!_

For the first time in a very long time, they both met each other were they were. Holding on to each other for support.

* * *

Close to four weeks later, they prepared to say goodbye. Victor watched as Yuuri was packing, preparing to skate on his own. For the second time ever, being together with him.

He could see that he struggled, that he wanted every small belonging that ended up in that bag to be unpacked. He put a hand on his back as he folded his clothes, not making any eye contact. He was trying his best to focus, not to make it hard.

"I… I'm sorry. I feel so bad about this, love."

"Don't." His voice sounded curt. Like he was trying hard not to let anything shine through, get to the surface.

"You won't be alone. Mila will be there, Yakov will be there and I…" He sighed.

"I know. You'll be watching. Right?"

"Right."

He faced him. Finally. His hands automatically found his lips, his chin, his dark hair. Brown eyes looking straight at him, being clouded by a tearing downheartedness.

"Promise me you'll give it your all. Promise me that you'll show me just how amazing you—"

It was a surprise. Feeling him against every part of him, in every possible way. To the very extent that he staggered backwards until the wall gave him unwanted support. He loved it, how forceful he was. How desperate he was. How he wanted to taste him, feel him, breathe into him strangely enough. Especially since he found himself to be his most unattractive self, his most feeble self in that very moment.

"You're amazing. You're amazing Yuuri," he said between every loving collision they made.

* * *

It was an ambivalent experience, sitting there alone. In front of the TV. It reminded him of days before. Before he met him. When he'd been alone, deprived of human contact in the way he had longed for it. At the same time, it felt good. Not that he was alone, not that he was without him. But the feeling of standing outside the circus, not even wanting to peek inside… it felt strangely satisfying.

He never wanted to be done with Yuuri and his skating, but he had achieved some distance to his own career during the weeks that had past. It felt okay. Not awful, not great, but okay. He could actually stand the fact of not being a part of it, he realised. If he made sure to keep himself distant from it. Not peeking in.

He felt grateful that Yuuri was taken care of when he couldn't step up to the plate. It gave him a calm inside, a peace of mind that was otherworldly. Of course, a small part of him, that perfectionist side of him, made him scoff more often than not when he realised that he could have taught him better. He knew him that well, what made him tick. What made him push forward and strive for success. Yakov wasn't the coach for Yuuri. He was.

With Makkachin sleeping on his lap, he decided to call him. Yuuri was scheduled to skate later, in the second group, he still had time to talk to him. Make some difference, maybe?

"Are you okay?!" He hadn't anticipated that call, it seemed.

"Well, hello to you too. I'm fine, love. Just… thinking of you. Makka and I are waiting for your turn. We feel lonely, we want you to come home soon."

"Oh… I… I've been thinking about you too. All day."

"You're too cute, you know that? How's Canada?"

"Cold!" He laughed.

"Really? Then you feel right at home, huh? Coming from Russia to Canada?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Anyone we know skating in your group?"

"Well… Leo's here and I think I saw Emil in the previous group but other than that, no."

_The life of skating. The top disappears and new talent pour in from the bottom. How ironic. It was… my turn this year, huh._

"Hey, Yuuri? How are you doing? Really?"

"I'm fine. I… I'm fine." He paused a bit. When he resumed, his voice was low. "I wish you could be here."

"I know. Next time you compete, I swear I'll—"

"Don't make any promises you can't keep. I… I can't…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this awkward."

"You're not making it awkward! I just wish that you could be _here_. No one motivates me better than you. I… I need you, Victor."

"Oh, love. You know what? I need you too. And today, I need you to show me the skating you liked best. I know, I've told you this before and… well, it got you where you are today so… Please, Yuuri."

"I'll do my best. I'll be thinking of you, every second I'm out there."

"And I'll be watching. Make me proud, Katsudon."

"Victor, why… why does this feel so different? So… final?"

"It doesn't. Not to me. I'll be with you next time. I _promise._ "

"I'll hold you to that." Some laughs and cheers were heard in the background. "I, uh… Sorry, it's noisy here. I… I love you. You know that, right?"

"I do. And, Yuuri? No matter what happens, I love you too."

It became silent. Like it usually does when you've tried to explain your innermost feelings and words just weren't enough. A shivering sigh broke that soundless conversation, and finally, some words followed.

"I'll show you the skating I liked best."

"I know you will. Good luck."

"So… bye."

"Bye."

He hung up. Thinking about what had become of him. Of _them._ How they'd slowly been forced apart by something so small, so menacing. And how it kept doing that, with an uncanny precision. Now, that card was on the table, the one depicting their first inevitable separation... that prestige close to its reveal.

He could only hope that the time would come. The time that would make them come closer.

**~Year One: Autumn ~**

**the end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter has come to a close and a hiatus comes with it. Thank you so much for reading and commenting so far. I love to hear from you <3


	30. Year One: Winter, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts the beginning of the second to last arc of this story. Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

It had taken six weeks all in all for him to get strong enough to deal with the final cycle of chemo. Six weeks of practically being confined to the flat due to his faulty immune system and exhausted body. Only going out for short walks with the dog and, very rarely, to accompany Yuuri a bit on his way to practise.

He'd been tired for the last week since, even though the chemo hadn't been as potent. They had given him less too, and just on one occasion instead of three. Victor wondered if it would make any difference, not getting as much, but his doctor did his best to reassure him. Apparently, the MRI showed great results, with nothing left of the tumors in either lung. The chemo had proven to be successful, this time around, and he was now on the long sought after break. How he would relax and enjoy the moment was beyond him.

He only wished he had more strength, more life in him. He had noticed that Yuuri had, once he got back from Canada, cut down on hours at the rink. For the last two weeks, he'd been training maybe ten to fourteen hours a week. When he had been well, they trained twice as much every week, sometimes more. Victor couldn't be angry with him, he knew why he'd made that choice to practise less. He wanted to be with him, it was that simple. Of course, he'd been wondering about why he'd made that choice _now_ , when everything was supposed to calm down for the both of them. Now was the time Yuuri should and could focus on himself and his skating, he thought.

"Love," he asked him one evening when they were all tangled up on the sofa. "I think I know why you're not practising as much but don't you think you should? November will be hard with both the NHK Trophy and Japanese nationals."

He felt his hands underneath his sweater. They lingered there for a while, like he was gathering up the courage to explain?

"Well… It's just that I… um, I feel ashamed."

"Sorry," he said with a laugh, "you feel ashamed? About what?"

"It's just that I haven't been there for you. You know, with you going to the hospital and all. I was scared to go with you." He scoffed a little. "I still am, but I… I don't know, I just want to make it up to you somehow."

"You know what," he said as he pulled him up towards his face, "I love you. For telling me this, for being with me. But, I don't want you to lose momentum now, okay? It's not much left and then, it'll be mid season. Fight it for a little while longer." He suddenly realised that he could have been talking about himself just as much. How strange it felt.

He got pulled back as he felt warm hands on both sides of his face, brown eyes slowly closing as their lips met in the softest of touches.

"Promise me you'll do the same." His lips were tickling his own as he spoke, before they returned to close any space between them.

_I'll try._

* * *

"I was thinking of coming with you today."

He could almost feel his eyes burying themselves into him. He'd surprised him, and that made him feel amazing. The reaction he got was nothing but amazing too, when he'd jumped up into his arms, crossing both arms and legs behind his back with a joyous squeal.

"Oh, hey! Yuuri!" He had to laugh, almost feeling smothered as his chest pressed up against his face.

"Are you sure?! Victor, are you sure?!"

"Yes, I'm sure. I feel good today. Also, it's been a while since I watched you skate. I need to see what Yakov's been doing to you, if he's allowed near you. I don't want him to spoil what I've been building up, you know."

He felt his head getting showered with kisses. He still wasn't really comfortable with that, but he decided to let Yuuri have it, just this once.

"So, the others will be there too," he asked as Yuuri slid down until his feet touched the floor.

"Yes, I think everyone will be there! They have asked about you, they've really wanted to see you but I… well, I wasn't sure about what you would think so…"

He realised that he had made it hard for him. By acting as a recluse, only keeping in touch with Yakov ever since it all began. This new reality. He could only guess the questions Yuuri must have gotten from the other seniors, and he didn't even dare to think about what it must have done with him. Carrying their questions and concerns all by himself. Not once had Yuuri said anything about the others although he had looked down at times when he got home from the rink. Victor had been thinking that Yakov was probably on top of it all but… apparently, he'd been wrong. It stung a bit.

"Forgive me." He felt guilty, not thinking about that aspect of Yuuri's everyday life. He hugged him in a feeble attempt to make him understand that he meant it. That he never wanted any of it for him.

"I hope that you can talk to them a bit today." Yuuri's voice was muffled against him. "They… they love you too, you know?"

"I'll do my best, love."

"So, do you feel like walking, or…?"

"No, I feel good but that will probably exhaust me. We'll take a taxi, just this once. All packed and ready?"

"Yes! Oh, I feel so happy, Victor," he said as he held his hand. "This is how it should be."

"I know." He kissed his hand. "So, let's go, then. We don't want to keep them waiting."

* * *

He tried to keep the smile under control, but it was hard. He was so eager, pulling him by the hand through the locker rooms and out to the rink. Like he was a prized possession, something he wanted to show off.

"Yuuri, slow down," he said warmly as they went through the door to the small walkway to the rink.

"No, you should hurry!"

He saw them from afar. The people he'd considered to be his family for so long. It hit him that he'd stayed away for four months. Yes, the last time he went with Yuuri to the rink when the others were there was before their trip to Japan. _Time, it's brutal. It doesn't care, it just keeps on going. Creating and destroying._

When they were noticed, the look that painted the others' faces was one of bewilderment at first. It gradually turned into something else. Joy, Victor thought initially, but as he got closer, he realised that most of them were… relieved. Thankful.

Mila was first to start running. She had her skates on, but that didn't slow her down one bit. She pushed past Yuuri and crashed into Victor, making him stagger backwards.

" _Privet,_ _krasavitsa."_ He put his arms around her as he regained his balance. "You look great, Mila. Doing okay?"

" _Ya po tebe soskuchilas', Vitya!"_

"I know, I can tell! I've missed you too." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Don't cry, okay?"

"I can't believe you came! I… I just… how are you?!"

"Tired," he laughed. He decided that he would do his best to steer away the conversation from his illness. He needed to hear them talk about something else, and he had a feeling that they needed it too.

She let him go and took a couple of steps back whilst holding on to one of his hands, like she wanted to draw in everything she was seeing. He could tell that she was affected, her lower lip was trembling a little. He suddenly felt like he was disappointing her, for looking they way he did. For not being his old self. For not bringing hope and strength with him. He realised that he wasn't sure if they _knew_. Where it was going, eventually. Or if they were living on hope that he would…

"I'm… I'm so happy to see you." She wiped her eyes a little with her fingers.

"You're stalling the queue," he said as he kissed her hand, watching her step to the side.

As he turned his head, he looked into a pair of green-blue eyes. "Hey, kitty. How are you?" As he uttered the words, he saw him look away. A frown had started to disfigure his forehead. _He's angry with me._

"Yuri?" He heard Yuuri's voice to his left. He found him intervening to be slightly endearing. Like he desperately wanted this meeting to be perfect for everyone. He realised that there was a chance that Yuuri would get disappointed. Very disappointed.

"You have a lot of nerve." He paused, like he was trying to… not get in control, rather lose the small bit he possessed. "You have a lot of nerve, coming here. Four months, you asshole. Like you were wiped from the face of the earth, only to deliver one blow after another!"

"Yuri!" Both Yuuri and Mila interjected, Yakov and Georgi just looked at each other. It seemed like they were familiar with this tirade.

"No, it's okay. Let him speak. He's been waiting to tell me this."

"Damn right I have! What, you thought it was cool to just go 'Hey, guess what, I have cancer' and then stay away for months?! I can't believe you, asking Yakov to tell us your heartfelt goodbye. 'Skating can go fuck itself', that's what you said. And then, you show up here? Like nothing's ever happened?! Problem is with you, Victor, you don't ever see what you do to people! You just leave them hanging! You're a fucking asshole!"

He noticed that Yakov wanted to interject. He shook his head a little and helt up one hand, just to make it clear that he could handle this.

Of course he was angry and disappointed, he had all the right to be. Although it was painful to realise that he'd been carrying this anger, this resentment for so long. It made him feel like what the kitty with the claws was implying. An asshole.

"I can tell you're angry," he started. Only to get interrupted with a heated fury.

"Know what? I don't want to hear another word from you! You showing up here doesn't make anything okay! You hear me?!"

"Maybe we should start our training," Yakov announced brusquely. "Yuri, you cool down. You're not allowed on the ice until then. Locker rooms, _now_."

"I'm sorry," Victor mouthed to him, feeling somewhat responsible for the situation. The thought that him showing up might have been a stupid idea crossed his mind, but he pushed it away.

As the team gave him looks that were apologetic at best as they walked over to the entrance to the ice, the blond forcefully pushed him aside as he headed for the locker rooms. Victor didn't hesitate. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

"Hey, Yurio!"

"Stop following me! Go watch your _husband_ instead, you shit. Like you didn't do when he went to Canada! Trying his best for you, you selfish piece of shit." He sat down with a loud thud and started to unlace his skates, pulling hard enough to make the leather creak.

"I will eventually, but honestly… What the hell? I can understand that you're angry but before you accuse me of doing stuff to people, you might want to take a long, good look at yourself. That was really unnecessary. If you have a problem with me, you don't have to make others feel as bad as you."

"Shut it."

He continued to look at him as he fought with the laces, trying hard to be quick so that he could leave. If the last six months had taught him anything, and much of that was actually thanks to Yuuri, he had started to understand that anger was a feeling that rarely acted on its own accord. He decided to push, just a little, to see if he was right.

"Instead of acting like a snot-nosed brat, man up and tell me what you're scared of."

He knew that his words were to be seen as a challenge, and it wasn't surprising at all that he got him to spring to his feet. With only one skate on, trying to ignore how his feet had a hard time with the difference in height, he walked up to him. Invading his personal space by standing really close.

"What did you say?"

"I said, little kitty, what are you scared of?"

"Shut your mouth."

"We're playing twenty questions, then? Okay, I've got time." He crossed his arms in front of him, intentionally giving him a small shove to the chest, making sure not to break the eye contact. If he wanted to act below his age, that was fine, but he decided not to give him anything that could be seen as empowering. He was hurting, it was obvious, but the reason wasn't as obvious. Yet.

"Screw you, I'm not doing this with you."

"Are you afraid that you'll be alone?"

The frown eased up a little, but gained some intensity after a fraction of a second. _Interesting. Something around that ballpark then._ He decided to explore that topic a bit more, wondering how relentless he could be before he would break.

"Are you afraid thinking about me? If I'm going to make it?"

"Shut up. Seriously, Victor, if you don't turn around and go out that fucking door, I'm going to make you."

"Or… could it be that you're worried about yourself? Afraid what will happen to you if anything happens to me?"

He was boiling. Baring his teeth. Giving him a look that was pure poison. Still, he realised that he hadn't really found what would set him off. Although, he could feel himself getting closer to the core. The fragile core of someone who did his best not to seem fragile at all.

"Yuri, I'm giving you one last chance, because I think I'm getting close."

The greenish eyes narrowed. It was as if he wanted to deliver something crushing, but it just wouldn't come out. Like it was stuck.

"You know, you told me out there that I was delivering blows. I'm actually doing you a favor, by asking you what you're afraid of because I…" He hesitated. That second felt like an eternity, but he managed to think a thousand thoughts in that time. All those thoughts came back to one answer, one possible outcome. "... I'm going to do it again. Remember, I gave you a chance. To ease your mind."

The frown stayed the same, but the voice was totally different. Fearful, this time. "Wh… what do you mean?"

"One last chance, Yuri. What are you afraid of?"

He was hoping, desperately wanting him to break on his own accord. He knew very well that if he didn't, he would do it for him and then, there would be no turning back. But, the answer never came, to his utter disappointment. It dawned on him, right then and there, that the self proclaimed Ice Tiger of Russia had been speaking the truth.

He would leave him hanging, after a final blow.


	31. Year One: Winter, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

He thought about it, what the best way of approaching him would be. He thought that he'd given him time, several chances too. He had gotten more and more impatient during the months that had passed, tired of sugarcoating things, saving whatever patience he had left to when he was alone with Yuuri. He realised that this exchange would be forever tainted by that fact.

He looked at him, how the blond hair was tied up in a bun, away from his face. How those green-blue eyes were narrow and critical. He felt a sting of annoyance studying him. He was sick of him judging him and his decision to stay away from everything that had become obsolete. Obsolete when he had been fighting for air in the darkest and deepest realms of himself for so long.

_I'm doing it. This will be my final blow, Yuri._

"Your choice, kitty. You see, there's something I haven't told you. Something that Yakov haven't told you. Something I'm pretty sure that Yuuri haven't told you either. If he had, I figure you would act a bit differently. Not much, but probably not with the same heat. Thing is," he sighed, still wishing for him to open up without him revealing how it really was, "that you will indeed be alone. I can't tell you when, but it's happening. It's inevitable."

"Asshole. What the hell are you saying?" He stepped closer, there was barely any space between them.

"Yuri, I'll tell you like it is. I'm won't be getting better, rather the opposite. I don't know how long it will take, but I'm dying, okay?"

It was as if he'd dealt a physical blow. He staggered backwards, almost toppling over due to him not wearing skates on both feet.

"It hurts, doesn't it? The truth behind people's actions." He realised that he was merciless. He wanted to shut him up for being all anger, all crude words, but at the same time, he had hoped for Yuri to tell him what he thought. Hoped for him to be honest enough to tell him what was hurting him and that would have been the end of that. But he was proud. Rigid in his way of protecting himself with resentment and heated remarks.

He was prepared for him, but the way he came at him with force made him take a couple of steps back. He was holding on, fingers digging into the lapel of his coat, pushing him backwards. He made no effort to struggle, to fight for his space. He just met his infuriated stare with a calmness that had an undertone of pity.

It was hard pinpointing how long they had been standing there. Feeling the other's breaths and body heat. But he decided that he wanted that chapter closed, leave it behind and hope that he would calm himself. Although, he realised that it would be wishful thinking.

He took hold of his wrists and was surprised how easily he let go of his coat. He could tell that his words were working their way through him to reach both parts of him, the conscious and unconscious.

" _Blyad_." He mouthed the word. His eyes started to quiver. He was looking away and back at his hands around his own wrists. Then away and back again. In a split second, he filled his lungs and did what Victor had been silently hoping for. He broke down, making the four letter word he let out resound. Allowing it to echo until it became quiet and still.

* * *

"In some way, I want to say I'm sorry."

It felt like he was supporting him, by holding on to his wrists. He felt heavy in his hands, like his body was failing him. Like it wanted to turn into a heap of flesh on the floor.

"But I won't," he continued. "I'm not to blame for my life turning out like this. I do hope you understand that, Yuri."

He had to let go. As he did, he could see his blond head from above as the floor did what he had failed to do. Support him, as he stayed down on his hands and knees. He sunk down on his heels, next to him. If he had been Yuuri, he would have touched him, pulled him close. Tried to console him in any way he could. But he wasn't and therefore, he remained as stoic as he could. Although the strained breaths made it difficult. Although the little sounds almost dug their way inside.

But they remained next to each other, almost in a quiet understanding. The waning king and the waxing crown prince. And, in a moment of epiphany, the king understood. Whispered into the ear of the prince what he'd gathered. What the prince was afraid of. And as a result, he let him in. Told him of his deepest, darkest fears.

It saddened him hearing the truth. He realised that those fears would most definitely come true.

* * *

They were silent in the taxi on their way home. Both of them being occupied with their own thoughts. The day hadn't ended up the way Victor wanted it to be, and he could tell that Yuuri was thinking the same.

Coincidentally, it had been necessary. The altercation. The talk with the angry successor. But it had done something to him, he realised. Something he in retrospect didn't fully understand, the consequences being beyond him at the time.

Mulling over it, he came to realise that he had reached an acceptance. Yes, that's exactly how it was. Calmly telling Yuri that he was dying, meeting his anger and frustrations, had left him with a strange calm. If he turned his gaze inwards and looked really close, made himself stop and really feel, he could sense this little stir. This little fragment of uncertainty and fear that most probably could expand if he felt vulnerable, but on the whole it felt strangely… okay. That made him scared.

To him, right there in that moment, it felt like he'd given up. He wasn't a person that accepted things, he usually challenged them. Fought them. That's how he'd lived his life. At least before. And now, realising that things were out of his control, that there wasn't anything he could fight for or challenge… He scoffed, and looked out the window.

A fraction of a second later, he felt the softest touch on his knee. His head whipped to his left, meeting those brown eyes he always wanted to lose himself in. Maybe even more so today. Yuuri's face looked serious, almost somber, although he tried to give him a reassuring look and a smile.

"Are you okay," he mouthed as he retracted his hand.

"Don't worry."

The taxi pulled over eventually, and after paying the fare, they got out. Slowly walking up to their building. The doors to the bottom floor barely closed behind them when Yuuri decided to speak.

"He never calmed down, did he?" Of course, he had a thousand questions.

"No, love. He didn't. He went home."

"But you were gone for so long. You talked or something, then?"

"You could say that," he sighed. "Yuuri, I… I told him. How it is. How it really is. And he couldn't really…" He pressed the call button of the lift, his voice dying out.

"...deal with it?" His voice was so low, sounded so fragile that it sounded like he would break. And take him with him.

They stood next to each other in silence. As the doors opened with a ding, they went inside and resumed the standing next to each other. The not speaking.

"Press the, uh…"

Yuuri pressed the button to their floor.

"I'm… I'm going to miss this. All of this," he suddenly said. Still in that same low voice, the threat of him falling apart being so tangible.

"Oh, Yuuri…" He didn't know what to say, how to respond to him. But he did what made him feel good, which ended up being something as simple as resting his head on his shoulder.

* * *

The came home together, but separated just as quick. Yuuri went out with Makkachin and Victor… well, waited. Waited for him to get back since he felt like they weren't done. That the words spoken in the lift were just the tip of the iceberg of something Yuuri considered to be important. Something he'd been waiting for a long time go gather up the confidence to tell him.

He started making some coffee and ended up watching the brewer's whole process. Being in an absent-minded trance, almost. When he heard Yuuri opening the door, he snapped out of it and came to meet him with a cup.

"Oh, thank you. It's cold outside!"

"It's November, after all. Come, sit with me."

They followed each other to the sofa, made themselves comfortable in the way the usually did with Yuuri's back against Victor's chest, somewhat reclining.

"I'm just going to finish this, then I'm taking a shower," Yuuri said between sips.

The moment was gone. Lost to his inability to meet him. Victor understood as much, and let out a sigh of frustration. He felt Yuuri shift underneath him, met his eyes briefly as he looked up with a puzzled face.

"He talked about you, you know." He sounded very matter-of-factly, he realised.

"Huh?" Yuuri sat up and turned around.

"Yurio. He talked about you."

"About me? What for?"

"He… well, he worries. I guess."

They sat silent for a while. Letting the words sink in.

"He's angry, you know," Victor resumed. "But that's the way it is with him, he just can't... He's angry with me. About… well, a lot of things."

"Where do I fit in?" His lips moved, the sound barely making it past them. He had an idea, apparently. One he was fearing to be the truth.

He took his hand, held it against his lips for a couple of seconds. Feeling the coolness of his rings against him. _You need to know._ He mulled it over in his mind. Yes, he needed to know. There was no turning back now, he had to finish what he'd started.

"He's angry with me because of what he knows will happen to him. Aft… after what will happen to you." He saw Yuuri lean down to put his coffee cup on the floor, and gave him his when he saw that he beckoned for it. "When I'mㅡ"

He wasn't silenced by lips, nor hands, nor words. He was silenced by a collision, a collision that ended with billowing shoulders and wet cheeks. Sustained through pain, into the late hours of the night that came to claim them.


	32. Year One: Winter, part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's short program music for this season is Sergei Prokofiev's _Scythian Suite Op. 20; The Adoration of Veles and Ala (Allegro feroce)_.
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

The constant avoidance, the ducking, the veering. The beating around the proverbial bush. He was sick of it. Getting more and more frustrated with the fact that he felt alone. Deserted. All he wanted to do was to say it, in order to make it something else than that shadow that lingered just out of the field of vision. He wanted to prepare for the storm.

Seven months of carrying thoughts and feelings he desperately wanted to share. He’d been patient. Caring. And he was trying, really trying to be as loving as he possibly could. But he felt something was missing, clawing away at him and his patience with every passing day. It was the honesty, he realised. The honesty they both desperately needed in order to carry on. To prepare.

He felt like a servant. A servant to what was going on inside Yuuri, with the appeasing, the consoling. The patching him up when need be. He wanted it to change, he wanted to be a master instead. Master of his own inner dominion.

But it was hard. Knowing how he reacts to truth, what it does to him when he’s faced with the inevitable. How incapacitated he becomes, how it drags him down and the time it takes for him to get back to the surface. What it does to him, them, the skating. That’s why he’d been listening too much to him rather than to himself. He wanted Yuuri to have the normal, he realised, in order to have him pieced together. To make him feel good about himself and his achievements.

It was with great hesitation he brought it up, a couple of days later. The question about how things were supposed to go, at least in the near future. Because he was worried, not only about Yuuri, but about himself.

“Love,” he said whilst stroking Yuuri’s back underneath his t-shirt, being next to him in bed. “I have something I need to ask you.”

“Mhm?” Yuuri responded without turning his head, without looking at him. Like he knew that this was coming. Like he wanted to keep the distance by not turning around. Guarding himself by not really acknowledging him.

“I was thinking about the NHK. I feel… I feel like I…” _Is there any way to say this without making it sound harsh? I’m so sorry, Yuuri._ “I don’t want to stand with you at the Kiss and Cry.” He felt the change. The tension in his back, how he suddenly stopped breathing. How there was a slight quiver in his muscles.

“Are… aren’t you coming with me?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” He put his hand on his shoulder, asking him to turn around, but he braced himself to Victor’s disappointment. He sighed, rubbed Yuuri’s shoulder a little before he resumed. “I don’t want people to know, Yuuri. I don’t want people to know, just the ones I think need to.”

Yuuri let out a shuddering exhale. It was Victor’s cue to get close, so he did. Closed any possible space between them, putting his face in his hair. Pulling him close to his chest.

“I’m going with you, I’ll be there for your practise sessions. I’ll coach you, just like always. But when the cameras are on… I don’t want to be there. I don’t want people to see me. See this.”

They were silent for something that felt like an eternity, although it could have been just a couple of minutes. The only sounds in the room were Victor’s slow breaths accompanied by Yuuri’s short and stuttering ones. And the soft, almost inaudible sound of fingers sifting through black hair.

“Yuuri? I can’t live withㅡ”

“You’re cruel. You’re cruel, Victor.” He sniffed a little before turning around, burying his head against his neck. “It’s not even two weeks from now and you just… I mean, like that? Why do you say it like that?”

Yes, why did he? Because there was no other way, he figured. The cat and mouse-game around the subject had been going on since the start.

“Listen,” he said, tried his best not to sound anything less than normal, “I know it’ll probably come out, somehow. But you know, I really don’t want it to. I want this to be contained and just… I just don’t want the attention.”

“Must… must it really be at my expense? Huh?!” He was getting agitated. Because of the topic? Because of the fact that they did something similar to talking about the situation? Or was the reason that he felt betrayed?

“Hey, wait a minute now! Your expense? You haven’t even told all the details to your family! _Your family_ , Yuuri! And you judge me for not wanting everyone to know? Watch what you’re going to say next because I… I feel I’m gettingㅡ”

“What?! Angry?!” He pushed himself away from him, out of his embrace. He was past agitated. Past angry too. It was more of a furious desperation to him now. His appearance, his voice. “Why don’t you try to… try to…” A couple of tears escaped the corners of his eyes, he clawed them away. Using too much force, leaving faint red marks on his cheeks. “Why don’t you try to see how it is for me?! I… I just… Why do you think I haven’t said anything, huh? Said anything to anyone?”

“Calm down, you don’t have to raise your voice.”

“I do! Because you… you don’t listen! The reason I just grin and bare, every single day, is because I don’t want to burden you! I just don’t want to burden you, Victor! That’s why I haven’t told my family, that’s why I asked them not to come for the competition because I figured you didn’t want them to see you. And now…” He shielded his face with his elbow before turning around, having his back against him again.

He wasn’t sure what to feel. What to think. And that was probably the reason why words just came to him. Unfiltered and not really thought through.

“You told them not to come and watch you skate? I can’t… I… Yuuri, why do you always do this? Whenever I want to talk about things you end up in tears and nothing gets said. You end up being miserable and I… Forget it. All I know is that we need to talk about this. Not just this, not just if I’m going to be at a competition or not but we need to talk... about everything else too.”

“I don’t want to! I know already!”

“You say you do, I hear you. But we need to talk about other things too. For instance, if you want to keep my thiㅡ”

“No! Victor, please! Please don’t!”

The raw tone and the strangling desperation in Yuuri’s voice almost made him cry too. Just for a second, before he found his composure again. Talking about himself, about life and death, sometimes felt like talking about the weather. Sometimes, it felt more real, more close. More jarring. Today, it felt like a mix of both.

“Love, come on. This is exactly what I’m talking about.” He put a hand on his hip and felt relieved that it wasn’t shrugged off or removed. “We need to, why not now?”

Yuuri’s breathing had picked up, almost sounding like he was going to hyperventilate. “Because once you say it, once I say it it’ll become real, okay?! I can’t, I won’t...” It was a pause, for a second, maybe less. Like he was rallying everything he had for a final sentence. “I can’t see myself being without you, don’t force me to do it! I’M NOT READY!”

And with those words, it was like a dam opened up its gates. A force of nature grabbing him, pulling him. Taking him away. But he had someone that reached for him, grabbed him. Someone who pulled him out of the drowning current. And he stayed with him until everything became dry.

* * *

 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love…” It sounded so far away. His voice. It had a tendency to that nowadays, more often than not. But when it broke through, he knew that he had started to tread water. That he, soon enough, would crash through the surface and finally breathe.

When he did, it became still. When he did, he felt his presence around him. It was exactly as surprising as the first time it happened. It was like waking up somewhere else, not understanding what had happened. He was facing him now, that’s not how he remembered what had happened before the anxiety claimed him.

“Hey…” Victor’s voice left a shadow of heat on his skin as he spoke. “How do we fix this? How can we both feel okay in this?”

He hadn’t any answers, he realised. Just childish wishes and dreams. He wanted it all to go away, maybe pretend that it was okay, at least for a while, considering Victor’s remission. He wanted to be with him, just like before. Live the life they had just started to find together, just like before. Him being his never ending support, just like before. Talking about what Victor had proposed, it just wasn’t accessible to him.

He knew he wasn’t a talker, he was more of a doer. He’d always been that way. That was why he’d cut down on his practise hours, that’s why he spent more time with him now. That’s why he had been keeping his fears and sadness bottled up inside, even though they occasionally seeped out of him. He’d worked up his courage to do all of those things because it felt easier now. Or it was supposed to, at least. _We were supposed to be having a break._

“Love, know what? I have something planned for you and your birthday. I… would like it if we could go to Hasetsu.”

He shook his head, slightly relieved that Victor wasn’t pushing the matter about how to fix things. He’d already told his mother that he wasn’t coming to his childhood home, not before or after the competition. He felt ashamed telling her that he didn’t want any support from them at the competition, and he felt guilty telling her that they would go straight back to Russia afterwards.

“Can’t we just come back here?” He heard that his voice was weak, mirroring exactly what he felt inside.

“But we can’t… we just can’t do it here. We need to go somewhere else and… Well, Hasetsu would be best, I think. I want it to be a surprise, love, but believe me when I say that Hasetsu is the best place for it to happen.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, trying to get his voice to find the strength it had lost. “I’ve already said that they can’t come. That we won’t come.”

Victor’s sudden laugh surprised him, he instinctively looked up to make sense of what he thought was amusing.

“Then we’ll just have to surprise them. Okay?”

He thought about it, and to his own astonishment, he nodded. “Are we going on Sunday? After the exhibition?”

“If you can stand being without your present until the day after, then sure.”

“Of course,” he mumbled. _I would give it all up just to be with you._

* * *

 

Victor was relieved that Yuuri had obliged. To a lot of things. Like staying at a different hotel than the other skaters, just to protect their privacy. Or rather, _his_ privacy. Like accepting the fact that he would be alone at the Kiss and Cry. And, of course, going to Hasetsu. But the relief quickly warped into other things. Like, say, worry. It was nothing that the water that cascaded from the shower ever could wash away.

 _‘I just don’t want to burden you, Victor! That’s why I haven’t told my family, that’s why I asked them not to come for the competition because I figured you didn’t want them to see you.’_ He hadn’t forgotten about that, what Yuuri had said. How it had hurt him hearing it. This was the problem between them, he thought. The never ending misunderstandings.

As always, Yuuri had come to his own strange conclusions. Read too much into things he didn’t quite understand. He wasn’t to blame, Victor realised that. They both were, by not talking. By not being able to plan ahead. By not explaining to each other about how they felt and not being able to stay in the moment, no matter how painful.

He sighed to himself. _You, burden me? You, your family or its support can never be bad, Yuuri._ He started to lather himself up. _I really do look like shit._

They were in Sapporo now, with some days to spare before Yuuri’s last chance at qualifying for the Grand Prix Final. He was under pressure, no doubt, having to place third or above to get to the Final. Considering the skaters attending the NHK, it would be a challenge but not an impossibility. To Victor, last year’s qualifications had been more demanding but then again… they weren’t fighting on two battlefields at once back then.

He heard him, his bare feet against the tiled floor. He turned off the water and  and appeared from behind the glass wall, wanting to meet him. With his hair looking all tousled, eyes looking straight at him, him being all naked, Victor realised that he was beautiful. Beyond compare.

He tried to meet his eyes with a smile when the thoughts about the future came over him. For starters, thoughts about the events happening within a couple of days. It veered swiftly, ending up somewhere else. Somewhere darker. Thoughts of all of that he never would be able to experience with him broke through. He understood that he was gripping at straws, trying to fill their life together with as much as he could possibly muster. Trying to be in the moment, because that was where _he_ was. But thinking about the future, making him leave the here and now, was like an obsession. He wanted that, the future. He wanted that with everything that was him. With every invisible little part of him.

He sighed as he reached out to touch his face. He felt himself getting dragged down, he needed the shackles to break before it would be too difficult to stay with him. Remain in the moment. The best thing was to use him, hold on to him. Make him do the same. That lovely apparition with tousled hair and dark eyes.

“Can I...?”

Victor stepped back and thus, inviting him. Being quick to get close, being quicker to feel him underneath his hands. He pressed against him as he reached for the faucet, turning the water back on.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, pushing back the hair from Yuuri’s eyes. “Tired?”

“A little.” His eyes looked sad more than anything else. “Aren’t you going to rinse that off?” He nodded at the foam that still clung to Victor’s skin.

“I will. In a minute.” Victor reached for the shampoo and started to lather up Yuuri’s hair. It came naturally, to apologise. “I’m sorry. I’m isolating you.”

Yuuri didn’t respond, not in words. His eyes looked away, saying more than words ever could.

“I just can’t stand the thought of, lean back a bit, having to answer questions, you know?” His hands went through Yuuri’s hair, rinsing out the shampoo. “Especially since the answers could be things we haven’t talked about.” He kissed him on the mouth, sighed against his lips before pulling him a bit closer. “I don’t want to leave things unsaid, Yuuri. I also don’t want you to stand there, thinking ‘What would Victor have wanted’. Love, do you understand?”

He felt Yuuri shaking his head, his cheek slowly rubbing against his own.

“Also… about Hasetsu. Seeing your family. Do you want me to tell them, somehow? They need to know because I… shit, I worry about you, Yuuri! You will need them, eventually. They must also prepare. I mean, have you thought about it? What you’re going to do?”

“Why are you always bringing this up?! It’s always at the worst possible time!”

“There will never be a good enough time, Yuuri. You know this. There are so much I want to talk to you about. If we keep stalling like this, it’ll be too late all of a sudden.”

“Don’t say that! You’re fine now, Victor! You’re on a break!”

“Darling, please…“

“Can’t we just… can’t we just have something that resembles normal?! I don’t want to worry, I don’t want to burden you. I just want it to be you and me! Doing what we used to, because… that’s all I ever wanted.” He picked up the bottle of bodywash and squirted out some of its contents into the palm of his hand.

“If I were to be patient, and that I think I have to a ridiculous extent already, then when? When would we talk? Huh? Yuuri?”

“Not a few days before a competition, anyway!” The silence spread out, Yuuri’s voice almost feeling like a silent observer. Still there, although not tangible. Suffocating them with its presence.

It took a while before anyone of them spoke. This time, it was Yuuri. Almost under his breath. “Are you done showering or not?”

“No, I’m not,” Victor said, biting back. Sounding annoyed due to Yuuri’s passive-aggressiveness, but regretting it immediately. “I’m sorry. Come here.”

He opened his arms, hoping that Yuuri would accept the apology. Feeling him close was almost better than anything he could ever say.

“I’m sorry too.” He came closer, burying his face against Victor’s chest.

“My darling. I… just one more thing before I… okay?”

“Okay.”

“Can we talk to your family? Can we please tell them before we leave for Russia?”

Yuuri’s voice was almost impossible to hear. Almost. “Pro… promise you’ll be there with me?”

“Tsk, what kind of question is that? Of course I will. I’d do anything for you.” _You don’t even have to ask._

* * *

 

He felt really awkward standing by the rink when Yuuri practised. It felt like all eyes were on him. Digging into him, trying to see past layers upon layers of clothes. Seeing him, his true self underneath it all. To think that he’d been someone who’d been basking in all kinds of attention before, getting high with every look, every squeal, every awkward try to get close to him… It felt like a lifetime ago, now. Like he’d aged considerably in the seven months that had passed.

“Yuuri, you need to be quicker in your movements! You know the tempo, if you miss a beat you’ll be off for the entire routine. You know this, come on!” Victor listened to the music to Yuuri’s short program on his phone while watching him go through it. “Quicker, step-step-step, spin! Better! Again from the toe combo, okay?”

“No, I… I need too... need to take a break!”

“Come then!” Victor held out Yuuri’s water bottle.

“Thanks. Oh, it’s so tough… that tempo... so demanding.” His stomach was heaving as he tried to breathe and talk at the same time.

“You chose it, no whining.”

They looked at each other. The smiles became giggles and ended up as loud and hearty laughs. If people hadn’t been watching the two of them before, they most certainly were now. It came from nowhere, the reaction. Making them both feel a caress of the old they once had, the old that was so carefree, uncomplicated in comparison.

Yuuri leaned in after taking hold of Victor’s elbows. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Anything for you.” He huffed in amusement. “But you were the one who chose it, though. You got this, it really makes the things you’re good at stand out. Your stamina, your technique...” Victor shook his head with a smile. “I’m so happy that it’s you doing that and not me. I would never pull through. It’s crazy. Two minutes and fifty seconds of crazy.”

He felt Yuuri squeeze his arms a little. “It’s… it’s good for me. I need that program.”

“I know.” He caressed his cheek, briefly. “So… again?”

“Yes. Again. From the top.” Yuuri took one more mouthful of water before skating off.

“I’m starting the [music](https://youtu.be/9MeT8mITZrY) now! Three, two, one, and… go.” _God, he’s beautiful. Hurts to say, but Yakov has been doing a good job with him. He’s… lovely. His expressions are much more mature._ “Much better, Yuuri!” _No, not mature. Forced upon him, like he got a task almost too difficult to pull off relentlessly being handed to him. But he grows with the pressure, with the desperation._ “Quicker!” _Sublime._

He thought about Yuuri’s theme for the season. _Nightmares within dreams. You really picked the theme and the music with your heart this time._ Victor suddenly felt something inside. He felt… moved, somehow. In the same way he’d felt moved at Worlds, when he was carrying the secret around on his own. Watching Yuuri skate at the gala, him wearing his heart on the outside just to profess his love, only made it worse. Knowing what he did and fearing what he didn’t when he sat there, mesmerised by him, torn apart by him… yes, this feeling was exactly the same.

Victor’s mind had taken him somewhere else, somewhere he’d been trying not to end up, although he realised it too late. _But his free skate… And those damn lyrics too. I know that is how you cope, but fuck, Yuuri!_ Victor saw the memory play out, like he’d been put right back in it. Feeling raw inside.

 

**~**~**

 

“This is the song I told you about. The one I asked her to compose. Thank you for introducing me to her, she did… great, I think.” Yuuri fiddled with his phone and gave Victor the other earbud.

“It’s really mellow. In Latin too, like Agape. That’s surprising. You have to work rather hard making this stand out. You realise that, right?” He gave him a questioning look.

“I do. But… to tell you the truth, I don’t… I don’t care. I just wanted to give you… It’s about you, okay?”

“What? About me?”

“Yes, it’s… I…” Tears were welling up in his eyes. No matter how much he blinked, they remained. Threatening to overflow.

“Love, what is this?”

“It’s what I want for you!” He slid the phone over after covering his face with his other arm, with an e-mail conversation about lyrics open on the screen.

 

**~**~**

 

“Victor? Are… are you crying?”

He flinched due to surprise when the intense short program music in his ear disappeared together with the earbud. The memory had claimed him so forcefully that he’d forgotten where he was. What he was seeing, hearing. He felt his cheeks. Yes, he was crying. Silently, just tears getting stuck on his lashes and then blinked away.

“I… I guess I am, huh?”

“You needㅡ”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

They found each other, being on the opposite sides of the boards. As the embrace grew tighter, they both hoped that Yuuri’s wish would come true. Somehow. For the both of them.


	33. Year One: Winter, part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Victor had stayed longer than he’d wanted to already, through the morning’s practise, Yuuri’s short program run-through and now, it was time for the warm-ups. There was a simple explanation to that really, why he’d stayed. He felt like he was needed.

“I’ll be going now, love. Okay?” His hand lingered on the side of Yuuri’s neck, his eyes travelling from those brown ones he loved to skaters passing them by on their way to the ice. He didn’t want to go out there. He couldn’t. He feared it.

Yuuri’s eyes found the floor. He shook his head a little, his lower lip trembling.

“I’m sorry. Yuuri, I’m so sorry.”

“This is it, Victor. If I’m going to make it.”

“You _will._ You will.” He pulled him close, felt his hair between his fingers. “If I go now, I’ll be able to make it back to the hotel in time before you start.”

“I don’t want this. Any of this.”

“Hush. I know. I know.” His hands trembled a little, he realised, as he tried to hide it by hugging him, tighten his grip around him more. “Once you go out there, find that place inside. The one we’ve been talking about, you know? It’s safe there, I’ll be there.”

“I… I’ll try.”

“You won’t just try, you’ll _do it_ , you hear me? Make me proud, Yuuri. Show them why I love you.”

They let go, still standing close. Victor reached for Yuuri’s right hand with his own. This is what they always did, their own little private ritual that had been going on for almost two years prior to any competition.

“I love you,” Victor said and kissed Yuuri’s ring finger. “For luck.”

“I love you.” Yuuri pressed his lips against Victor, a shivering breath playing against his hand. “I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will. Now, go.”

When Yuuri turned around and walked away, Victor made a silent promise to himself. He would be there, by his side, if he made it to the Grand Prix Final.

* * *

 

His phone beeped, as on cue.

**_From: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_You okay, buddy? Can’t see you at the KnC. Is he there alone?_

 

He sighed. Of course it was strange to see a skater without anyone being next to him at the Kiss and Cry. Of course it would raise questions. He felt stupid not thinking about it, seeing only to himself and his intense fear of being confronted. Having to unveil himself and his secret. The final surprise.

 

**_To: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_I’m fine. I’m here, although not there._

 

The answer came almost within a couple of seconds.

 

**_From: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_Why aren’t you there? Be careful, Victor. You’re hurting him, look at him._

 

Victor’s eyes went away from his phone to the TV. Yuuri had done extremely well, placing second with only a minimal margin to the skater in first place after the short program. But he looked destroyed. Exhausted. Violated, almost.

He scoffed. With Christophe, he could be candid. That was something he cherished deeply.

 

**_To: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_I see that, you ass._

 

**_From: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_No, you are an ass, poutain. Why aren’t you there?_

 

**_To: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_Because I’m an ass._

 

**_From: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_Try harder._

 

**_To: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_Because I’m a coward. I don’t want to answer questions, I don’t want to be seen. I want to be alone._

 

**_From: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_Bullshit. If that was the case, you would have stayed at home. You need him as much as he needs you._

 

Screencaps showed up on his screen, taken from skating websites. Victor sighed with relief, they were too blurry to make him feel any kind of discomfort. One could barely make out that it was them, him and Yuuri, laughing after Yuuri’s short program practise.

 

**_From: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_See? You need each other. Also, they’re always there. They see everything. You know this._

 

**_From: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_Oh, what are they asking him now? Look at him!!!_

 

Victor looked at the TV again. Yuuri was being interviewed by a Japanese crew. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, other than Yuuri’s name and… his own. The look on Yuuri’s face told him that it had happened. They had asked him about… them, most probably. Why he was alone. And Yuuri was speechless, trying to find words and just… left?

 

**_To: Gay-acometti ;p_ **

_Later. Need to call him._

 

His heart told him to go back, go to the rink and find him. His mind told him to stay calm, call him and hear him out.  It was hard feeling rationality battle with guilt. He felt like he’d made a big mistake, but at the same time, he knew himself and what he had to do in order to endure.

He pressed Yuuri’s contact picture and waited for the phone to start ringing. _Why didn’t I think of that? Of course they would ask_ him _. He’s there, totally unprepared. Pick up, honey. Please._

* * *

 

_Victor._

Yuuri looked at the phone, the screen was lit up by Victor’s ecstatic face. He loved that picture of him, it portrayed everything that was him. His true essence. Carefree, whimsical and strong. The picture had been taken shortly after his move to St. Petersburg, almost two years ago.

He remembered the morning well, how he had been brought out of his sleep by lips being all over him. How the kissing led to something else, something they both had missed immensely by being apart. How they had fallen asleep again shortly after and how Victor had, once they woke up anew, taken his phone before they went to the shower.

_‘Whenever you see this, remember what you did to me. You wore me out!’_

The screen went dark, Victor had hung up. He pressed the button to bring the phone out of standby. Texts from his family. Seventeen missed calls. He’d felt the buzzing ever since he got caught by the Japanese TV-crew, and it had been continuing since.

But he couldn’t pick up. Not then, standing in front of the camera. Not now, hiding away in a bathroom stall. He just wanted to be with him, hear his voice tell him that everything was okay. Feel his hands on him and believe every single word he would say. He wanted to believe that he could make it better, like he always did. By being himself, all of that he never could be.

Again, the phone lit up. This time, he picked up. Not knowing what to say, how to make his voice come out of him.

“Love, I’ve been trying forever! Are you okay?! Hey… are you there?”

He could only sniff in response.

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I should’ve… Are you okay? I hear you’re crying, love. Shall I come? Are you on your way back?”

“Can… can you come? Please?” _Please, Victor. Just come._

“Are you still at the Makomanai? Where do I go? Oh, Yuuri...”

He felt like a little boy, crying into the phone. In a way, he was. The little boy inside him had taken over, being hurt, distraught, ashamed and afraid. Between sobs, he managed to tell him to call, make him know when he was there. He would come once he knew that he was outside. There to comfort him, there to be everything that he never could be, never would become.

It’s strange how it works. When you’re too much inside yourself, trying to console your fragile emotional inner child, time just disappears. It only felt like a couple of minutes from when he hung up until he got the call that would save him. Make him seek shelter from the storm.

He grabbed his backpack as he walked out of the bathroom, keeping his head low and his pace quick. Not answering the call, but texting him instead.

 

**_To: Vict♥r_ **

_Coming._

 

He exited the arena. In the cold, he heard his name being called. He didn’t have to look, he started running. Knowing very well where to go and where to eventually stop, be stopped. Get caught where it would be calm, where it would be safe and comforting.

He buried his face into his coat, holding on as hard as he could, wanting his fingers to dig in. Leave permanent marks as proof of his need for him and never let him go. He wanted to claim him, not let anything or anyone take him away. He wanted him, he wanted him to be there, he wanted them to stay together.

“Yuuri… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His arms were where they were supposed to be. Around him, piecing him back together with his mere presence. Trying to make sure everything stuck to each other, that every part found its rightful place with his warm body and calm voice.

“Let’s go. Come, love. The taxi’s waiting.”

* * *

 

They didn’t say much when they got back to the hotel room. In moments like this, there was no need. They knew what their roles were, how to act around each other to make the other shed the tension from before.

For Yuuri, it was always the same. Some crying. A hot shower. A silent embrace that ended on his initiative. The most important thing, though, was him knowing that Victor was close, not doing anything other than being there if need be. Supporting him by his presence alone.

For Victor, it was to understand. To get introduced to Yuuri’s inner thoughts, to follow the clues to make out what made him crumble. But also, to meet him where he was. Without pressuring him, letting him take the lead, no matter how fiery or slow the dance would become.

“I don’t want to do this,” Yuuri finally said, with his head on Victor’s stomach and an arm around his hips. “I can’t anymore.”

Victor put a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. Acknowledging that he’d heard him, but not asking any questions even though his head was instantly filled with too many to count. Knowing that he would open up if he had the patience to wait for him, let him feels his way without pressure.

“It’s just…” He sighed, and turned his head a little, to look at the TV that almost had no volume on. “Ah… Turn it up a bit.”

As fas as Victor could tell, it was the news. And sure enough, a report from the NHK Trophy. He obliged, seeing Yuuri’s face on the screen.

“Skater Katsuki,” Yuuri translated, “congratulations on your second place before the free skate tomorrow. Seems like you are still in a good enough form since your win at Worlds last year!  
"Thank you. I have been trying to, uh, challenge myself this year as far as the routines go. I couldn’t do this without my coach though.  
“Yes, about coaching, skater Katsuki; Images show that you practised earlier today and earlier this week in the presence of your coach, Russian figure skating legend Victor Nikiforov, who not too long ago retired from skating himself?  
“Um... Yes, that’s right, I did and he… he did.  
“That came kind of sudden, it really shocked the skating world that he retired without being seen competing for a while.  
“I… it was his choice and…  
“Is there a reason why he’s not with you now at the competition? We never saw him together with you after the run-through earlier today.  
“Well, that’s… he… he… I… I’m sorry, I need to, uh… Please, please excuse me. Thank you for the support! Please watch the free skate tomorrow, thank you!”

Yuuri took the remote and turned off the TV, placing his head on Victor’s stomach again.

“Yuuri…”

“I just can’t do this anymore. I just don’t know what to say, what to do. And also…”

“Love, I know. I know…”

“If this is what it’s going to be like, being alone… completely alone without you waiting in a hotel room somewhere… I love you so much, I don’t want this! I never asked for this, I just want it to be us! Why, Victor? Why is this happening?! I will never be ready! What am I supposed to do?!”

When he felt his stomach getting cool, he pulled him in. Pulled him up to his face, pulled him as close as he possibly could. Understanding with every little whimper Yuuri made against his chest that they had been fighting on separate battlefields. All alone, without the possibility of trusting in the reinforcements that were just out of reach. Not even calling upon them.

“It’s not your fault, love. I’m so sorry. It’s not your fauㅡ” He was silenced by the pressure against his lips, against his mouth. Intrusion upon intrusion, collision upon collision, contact upon contact. Against his lips, he heard the only sentence he didn’t want to hear. The one he would hate the consequences of, if he gave in.

“Please, Victor… make me feel something else. Make this go away.”

* * *

 

A constant struggle. Feeling his hands on him everywhere, trying to rouse interest. Trying to make him give in, give him what he wanted in order to escape, to forget. Trying to make him end up giving him what he sought to feel more alive, or maybe even much less than that for a blissful moment of respite.

Victor wanted to. The impulse was as natural as drawing breath, and just as important. Feeling the surge inside and at the same time, trying to fight it. He wanted this for Yuuri, he wanted this for himself but not like this. He didn’t want the need to be fueled by desperation, by fear and by Yuuri’s desire to get led astray, to get lost in him as a way to redirect what he’d been trying to keep away. He didn’t want fear to be conditioned to, connected to, that part of them. It didn’t belong there.

He tried to keep it under control, to move away his hands from rallying him, egging him on. He still tried to meet his panic that had turned into something complicated and insatiable, something he’d never seen in him before. He could hear his breathing, fast and shallow, almost feel it being saturated by black hues instead of red. Feeling more of an anxiety being exhaled against him than the passion he was used to.

He could understand him, his state of mind. He’d been there before, he’d felt that tearing many times. Before Yuuri entered his life, it was often. After he came to be his, it ebbed out. Became dry and healed. And again, after understanding everything he would leave behind, it had made his acquaintance again. But he had never acted upon it, even if he wanted to.

That’s why he suffered, knowing all too well what he felt. He didn’t want that for him, him to tread down the same path as he had years before, before meeting him. Joining in on that disabling, mindless hunt after an, in all honesty, worthless release. It wouldn’t lead to anything, it couldn’t. All it was, all it could ever be was just a brief moment of rapture, a way to distance oneself further from the pain. The pain the two of them actually shared, being more powerful than any fusion ever could. At least, right now.

He straddled him, pinned him down. Gathered his wrists in his hands and held on. Watched him from above, experiencing the change in him with every agitated pound as Yuuri’s pulse drummed against the insides of his thighs.

First came the frustration, when Yuuri realised he was being declined the escape he wanted. The halfhearted thrashing about, not putting any force behind his tries to get out of his hold. But still trying. Still making a valid point when he fought for so many things at once.

Then came the anger, the harsh words. Why was he doing that to him, why was he denying him. He had him all figured out now; he would never touch him again, this was just a way to prepare himself to let him go, to let everything go. Of course, he didn’t love him anymore and this was the final proof. He was cruel, so cruel to him. Why did they even love each other. He wanted to know, wanted him to tell him every pathetic reason why.

Following, shortly after, was the sincerity, the longed after connection with all that was him in that moment. When he understood that his words couldn’t evoke any reaction, no matter how piercing and that he had to return to the chaos within him. Stay there for a while and really feel. Taste the immense sadness, the hopelessness, the consuming fear.

That’s when Victor understood it was time let him go. Eased up on the hold he had around his wrists, got off his quivering body. It was like he’d stretched out a spring, watching him recoil and turn small, turning his back against him.

Although he remained silent, everything between sweet apologies and stern reprimands fought for dominion over his tongue and lips. He understood that he would have to pace himself, hold it in for a while longer. Something had happened today, inside him and Yuuri. Acting too soon, before he knew what the changes would entail, would be nothing but disastrous.

As he lay down beside him, he felt hesitant. Not because of what had been said, words spoken in anger were never sincere as far as he was concerned. They were only as hot as the feeling behind them, passing through like a violent storm only to leave a serenity behind. Nor was he hesitant because of what had happened since they returned, it could only be seen as liberating. Like a first step had been taken on a journey waiting to happen for too long. No, what he was hesitant about was all that _he_ hadn’t done. All of that he’d been denying him, the one he loved, the one he had chosen to be his. For what, to get respite? Develop some peace of mind? Live through another day of being inconspicuous?

He touched him. Let his hand go upwards from the erased sway of his back, up to the nape of his neck. He followed the contour of his shoulder before crossing over it, finding it easy to fit his arm underneath Yuuri’s. Still feeling that agitated pulse against his arm as he crossed it over his chest and allowed it to stay there.

His hands were on him again. This time, they didn’t try to persuade. They gripped the arm he’d put around him, digging into his shoulder. Begging him to stay. Victor couldn’t ask all of that he wanted to, but as the hands got calmer and started to rest on him more than tear into him, he thought to himself that he’d been given a gift. One of confidence and trust, one that needed respect and love in turn.

“Yuuri,” he whispered as he put his cheek on top of his, “you’ve carried me today. Let me raise you up tomorrow.”


	34. Year One: Winter, part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's free skate music this season is Yoko Shimomura's _Somnus_. Let's pretend it's as long as a free skate song should be, and that it's written for him.
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

He didn’t sleep well that night. His inner unrest proved itself to be more uncomfortable than any hard hotel mattress he’d ever slept on. No matter how much tossing and turning, switching positions and vigorous pillow fluffing he engaged himself in, the feeling wouldn't subside. Of course, why would it? 

He had hurt him. Because of his tactlessness, his craving for privacy that made made him act out of pure selfishness. He hated it, that he had put him in a situation he couldn’t control, one he wasn’t ready for. A lot of people had called him thoughtless, egocentric, vapid. And in truth, maybe he was. At least before. Ever since they’d met, Victor liked to see it as Yuuri smoothing down all those edges. Those sharp, rougher sides of him that people who knew him well had trouble with. Yuuri had taught him a lot, with him wearing his heart on his sleeve, demanding patience and understanding in a way he wasn’t used to. Living with him, relating to him, marrying him, all of that played crucial stepping stones in his own personal development and levelling him down in the process. 

And now, he’d more or less made a promise he had to keep. By being weak and stepping out of his bubble in a seemingly thoughtless moment. But he had felt sincere when he said it, he wanted to make it better. To mend him, console him. To be forgiven somehow. But realising the impact of his words made him tense. The understanding that he would face one of his greatest fears in a matter of hours, letting people approach him in a way he wasn’t ready for… The mere thought made him feel sick. Inside him, he knew that a lot was riding on it. On him being there and pulling through. For him.  _ For Yuuri. _

He turned to his side and reached for his phone, fiddling with the power button in the dark. Three hours left until they would have to get up. Three hours until the start of a day he was sure that he would love to forget by the end of it. Maybe even earlier. He put down his phone on the nightstand with a soft sigh. He looked to his right, barely making out Yuuri’s face in the absence of light. He scooted a little closer, being just close enough to put his nose in his hair. To stroke his cheek. He turned over to his side again, having his back against him.  _ Maybe, this is love. What it’s really about. Giving, even when it feels impossible. Enduring when it hurts. Staying, when you want to run. _

He jerked, slightly startled, when he felt an arm around his waist. He huffed a little at his own reaction. He touched the arm, trying to find hand it ended with. It was warm and limp. Totally relaxed, not having a care in the world. He tugged at the hand slightly, pulling it up to his lips. He whispered, hoping that the fingers pressed against his lips could keep his secret. “Even though I want to, I won’t run. I’ll be there for you.”

* * *

The morning was slow, with the shared shower, the shared breakfast. The silent procedure of getting ready, getting prepared. They were tapping into each other. Both being somber, relying more on actions than words. Supporting each other, but needing different kinds of favors. 

Yuuri’s tension diminished with every hour, getting closer to the time of reckoning. The free skate. He could do this, with every passing minute, he became sure. Every touch from Victor added to a calm that was building, accumulating. Every moment they shared made him feel more certain, more confident. Every small interjection, whether he was telling him to concentrate, continue, ease up, elongate, push, pull… He could feel it inside. The calm from before, before all this, before the endless nightmare that was theirs. He carried him inside, hearing his voice delivering admonitions in the way only he could with every movement on the ice. He was sustained, knowing that he was there. Looking at him. Just like before.

Victor’s tension, on the other hand, grew. Exponentially, with every hour. The morning practise, he endured. The run-through of the free skate made his knees weak. The warm-ups made him sick to his stomach. When they stood together, waiting for Yuuri’s name to be called, he wanted to leave. He was about to, feeling his muscles tense up in a building panic. Vibrating underneath layers of clothes. Every little part of him telling him to go, run, protect the last piece of his secret puzzle he had decided to never put down on the table. 

But he didn’t run. He was battling himself. Feeling heart and mind waging a devastating war. No matter the outcome, one of them would be battered and bruised. It was either him or Yuuri.

“When I’m out there,” Yuuri said, almost too low for him to register although he was standing right behind him, “don’t look at anything else. Keep looking at me.” He gave him the briefest of looks, over his shoulder. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

They had a silent agreement, and he broke it by asking him to turn around. To face him. Delivering a kiss that screamed everything between desperation and devotion. Feeling it being answered, reciprocated with the same urgency, made him choose. He chose Yuuri.

It was devastating letting go, gain space and losing the taste of him. Feeling him evaporate from his mouth. He wanted more of him, to have him close. But Yuuri needed to get out there, to sate  _ his  _ need, to shed the last veil of  _ his  _ anxiety.

Yuuri’s name echoed in the speakers, making Victor sigh. The sooner he could get back, the better. The quicker he, on the other hand could let go, the sooner…  _ No. Not now. Not now.  _ He diverted the thought by holding on to him, trying to ground himself with the sensation of him in his hands. “Love, you’re up.” Having his shoulders fitting perfectly in his hands, did nothing for the building fear.

“I know. For good luck?”

Their own ritual played out once more, lips touching metal, eyes touching eyes. Hopes touching dreams as their life together as coach and student, as well as lovers and husbands, would be tested in front of an audience.

“Make me proud,” he said, almost automatically. 

“I will never stop.”

_ I know. _

They made the short walk together, to the entrance of the ice. Victor was ready with an outstretched hand as Yuuri took off his skate guards and handed them over. He noticed that it trembled, but closing his fingers around them made it a little easier to cope with the realisation.

“I’m afraid, Yuuri,” he whispered when he closed his fingers around them even tighter, seeing Yuuri step out on the ice. 

“I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.” He tugged a little at the lapel of his coat. “Just look at me.”

With that, he watched him take off, stand in position. Waiting for the  [ music  ](https://youtu.be/eEMCLqEQ8MY) to start.

* * *

_ ‘It’s what I want for you!’  _

The memory of that evening made perfect sense. Every word, every emotion. Seeing Yuuri, all that he had become during the months that passed, just came together for him. Still being that soft, fragile individual off the ice but turning into something else while being on it, something he realised that he’d missed by not standing by his side. He was thankful, being able to see that. Being able to face his fears to see that… he would be okay. Once they were to be separated, he would be okay.  _ Maybe you don’t understand it yourself yet but this, this routine… it’s not as much what you want for me but rather… what I want.  _ For you _. Thank you, Yuuri. For showing me this. _

He tried to concentrate. Only keep him in his mind, rest his eyes on him to stifle the building anxiety. Keep him and his movements in focus as a seemingly never ending step sequence was followed by a spin combination. He tried to see his face, tried to see the emotions behind his movements that were so obvious to him, screaming with every raised arm, flick of the hip and sway in his back. 

Yes, he was fighting too. Victor wasn’t sure what was going through Yuuri’s mind when he skated, that was something he’d never asked because he considered the inner flame, the one that spurred Yuuri on and every skater in history that had danced across the ice, to be sacred. Private. If he was to transform the motion into words, or at least try, he would say that he was witnessing a pained sendoff. A celebration to what once was and a trembling uncertainty if what was to come. But there was hope in the movements too, something comforting. 

_ That the dawn will be visible through the darkness. _

It stung behind his eyelids as he realised that he wasn’t going to do the planned spin before the end of the program. Of course, he wanted to show him, pay tribute to him. Make him understand that all is not lost. So, the quadruple flip didn’t come as a surprise. More like a sad reminder that their skating was much like their relationship. A giving and a taking. A push and a pull. Alternately taking the lead, alternately following. Depending on who was the stronger one in the moment, depending on who was yearning for respite.

_ Today, it’s you. You’re carrying me.  _ He couldn’t hold back as the thought exploded in his head. Feeling ready to let himself lean a little. Just to understand what it would feel like.

* * *

“What did you think? Of today?” Yuuri’s voice cut through the silence.

 In truth, he didn’t really know what to say. They had returned to their hotel after a bewildering couple of hours. To Victor, he felt like he’d experienced everything standing next to himself, being outside of his body. Understanding that Yuuri had made it to the Grand Prix Final, that he’d been sitting next to him at the Kiss and Cry, that they’d met with the press… He could barely remember what had happened, what he said and what he did. But he’d pulled through it.

“I… I don’t know.” His response was earnest. He tried to latch on to what was clear, what he could remember. “You were amazing.”

He felt Yuuri’s arms grow tighter around him as they lay together, warm and slightly wet after showering. He had been amazing. The way he had given his all, really exerting himself in his free skate. The way he’d been his support afterwards, consoling him for a change. 

“How are you feeling?” Yuuri kissed the side of his neck before sighing, a deep exhale that felt warm when it touched his skin. A sigh of relaxation, it seemed.

“Honestly, love, I don’t know. I feel tired, I think. Spent.”

“Do you think they, um… you know, thought about what you…?”

“I don’t know, darling. I’d rather not think about it right now.”

“They… they weren’t as prodding today, I think. It’s like… when you’re there, it becomes different. It’s like, well, I don’t know.” Yuuri paused, propped himself up on outstretched arms. When he was looking down at him, it seemed like a small smile was on the verge of making itself known. Underneath that curtain of wet, black hair hanging down in front of his eyes. “It’s like people have respect for you, you know.”

He brushed Yuuri’s hair out of his face, pulled it back so that they could look at each other without distractions. He loved that part of him. How he wanted to see the best in people. That was where they differed a bit. Although that part of himself still was there to some extent, the people-person part, he couldn’t help but wonder about people’s ulterior motives. What they thought when they saw them together, when they saw him. Not being dressed like he used to, not making his presence known to the same extent as before. Not being himself. Yuuri might think that they respected them, him, by not asking questions but the questions were still there. Hanging like something sticky and uncomfortable by being unspoken. 

Although he didn’t realise it, he had protected him today. By taking the initiative, speaking with the press, the other skaters. Taking an enormous burden off his shoulders by taking center stage, making sure that everything being discussed was supposed to be about him and not his coach. 

“Promise me not to tell me if they comment on… things, you know?” He knew that he wouldn’t, but he wanted to ask, to make sure. That was the one thing he never wanted to hear. What others thought.

He watched Yuuri nod, a small and uncertain one. The smile that had been trying to peek out was nowhere to be seen. He could read a lot into that gesture, that facial expression, but he decided not to. He motioned for him to come close, and hummed in appreciation when he did. Sliding on top of him, resting with his head on his chest.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but the reaction he felt when he finally dared to touch the skin of his back underneath his t-shirt didn’t feel made up. He couldn’t help but coo a little when his hands, finding their way underneath his underwear, made his hips flex a little. Softly digging into his own.

“I know that we’ve showered already,” he started, watching the brown eyes narrow slightly with every word, “but is there a chance that you want to get messy? With me?”

The kiss that followed conveyed an unmistakably clear answer.

* * *

They had longed for that moment. The moment when it would only be about them, as if they were the last two men on earth. Where they could focus on nothing but themselves, drown in the pent-up need and succumb to the will the other.

Between the wet kisses and rousing sighs, they realised that it had been too long since. Too long since they honestly and wholeheartedly could seek genuine comfort, share the otherwise hard to convey intensity of emotions that coursed through them. This was nothing like the evening before, when fear had been their mistress and wanted them to give in to other feelings entirely.

“How long,” Victor panted between kisses, “how long since last time? Like this?”

“Too long. I can’t even remember.” Yuuri’s hand had no difficulties finding him, taking hold of him.

His moan couldn’t match the intensity of the sadness inside, hearing Yuuri’s answer. He wanted to make it memorable, for the both of them. As long as they could keep making memories, he desperately wanted them to. Needed them to. Even more so in moments like this. 

With his voice getting stuck inside his throat, trying to fight the conflicting emotions, he managed to take one step in the right direction. Wanting to make a memory of his own. “Take it off. Your shirt. I need to see you, all of you.”

His heart picked up pace as he felt him ease up on his grip around him. Shift slightly. Sit up straight. Seeing Yuuri’s body getting revealed by the t-shirt being pulled up, over his head… He could never get enough of that sight. He needed it to get etched inside him. He needed to keep it available, readily accessible by nothing but a thought bringing it out into his conscious mind.

He concentrated on making it so. Paying attention to every single detail. How his hands felt, resting on Yuuri’s thighs. How the muscles in Yuuri’s abdomen stretched as his arms went over his head. How his shoulders looked when he fought with his t-shirt. How his hair became tousled, how he could see him arching his back before his arms became still against his sides. How he rubbed against him by doing so, stretching out and relaxing. How his breathing picked up being on top of him, making his stomach rise and fall, quicker with every breath. How his dark eyes smiled at him before he came close. How he smelled, how he tasted, what he felt like underneath his hands. All the things Yuuri’s body told him. All that he wanted to answer in return.

“Victor, I…” His voice sounded muddled against his lips. It was hard to tell if it was because of a heated desire or something else. Like uncertainty. 

“Yes? Yes, love?” 

It took a while to get an answer. It had to be brought out by small nibbles, eager hands and ragged breaths. But when it finally came, it was worth the wait. It was worth more than anything. To hear him say those words, at least once.

Yes, this was a memory he knew wanted to keep, one he never wanted to forget. One he would cherish for the rest of his time breathing, thinking and feeling.

When the moment was over, when they were collapsed on top of each other feeling nothing by the indescribable high that can only be shared between lovers, it came natural to him. To tell him what he had hoped he would be able to at least one more time, ever since he was dealt the hand that fate had in store for him.

“Yuuri? Love?”

“Mmh…”

“Happy birthday.” 


	35. Year One: Winter, part six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Yuuri had fallen asleep shortly after the takeoff. Almost in mid-conversation. Victor smiled when he noticed it, realising that he wouldn't be graced with an answer to his question, not that it mattered anyway, and began draping Yuuri in his jacket. Tucking it in behind his shoulders to keep it in place. Of course, he was exhausted. Not only from competing, being under the pressure that came with it, and doing an exhibition program earlier during the day. He had been nervous, seemingly walking the edge. The way he'd been fidgeting, being forgetful, slowly getting more and more introverted. It had drained him. All of it.

Victor ran his fingers through his hair as he leaned back in his seat, pushing it back from his face. Fighting a somewhat guilty conscience. Going to Hasetsu usually made Yuuri act quite the opposite. Made him light up and made him much more talkative. Made him relax. The thought was quick to root itself, that going there was a bad idea, and he became occupied with it for a while. Maybe Yuuri had endured as much as he possibly could for the time being, maybe his cup was filled? The memory of his outburst after they returned to the hotel, after the short program, appeared out of nowhere and made his insides clench.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to redirect where his thoughts were going, but to no avail. He was whisked away to when Yuuri had been craving something else, something distracting, how he'd been desperate and digging in. Also, the memory of leaving him like that, just before the short program, seeing how it affected him when he sat in the safety of the fortified fortress that was their hotel room… Some part of him couldn't believe that he'd done that and another part of him praised him for taking care of himself. It was impossible to make the sides of him meet, make them listen to each other and come to terms with what had happened. _I left you. Before a competition._

He glanced at him for a short while. How his glasses were being askew since his head was leaning against the wall of the cabin. How his hair was falling into his eyes, how his lips were slightly parted. How strange it felt to see him look both fragile and convincing at the same time. That was Yuuri in his essence, really. A man of duality. How he could fluctuate between extremes depending on how comfortable he was, if he knew he could get caught if he stumbled. That still was puzzling to him. How Yuuri could still trust him after everything he'd done to him, after everything that had happened. It was as if he put his life in his hands and had the confidence to rest in that decision. Trusting him that he would make everything okay.

Like going to Hasetsu. If that wasn't trust, he didn't know what was. After all, he knew very well what would transpire there. Despite that, he'd told him yes. With the only condition that he'd be there by his side when he was to tell them, his family, that their story together would end up being unwritten almost before it even started. But that would have to wait just a little while longer. Telling his family. He had other things planned for him, for his birthday. Things Yuuri deserved, things Yuuri needed. Or... at least would cherish, down the road. Of that, he was certain.

He felt the need to say that he was sorry, all of a sudden. For everything. For everything that was to come. For feeling unsure about if he could meet his standards anymore.

* * *

"Do you think they'll be up?" Victor's voice felt like a caress, waking him up from his slumber. The dull sound and the rocking of the train bound for Hasetsu had apparently lulled him into another dreamless sleep.

As he tried to wake, he felt cocooned. It felt safe, protective, leaning against his shoulder. Feeling his hand being around him, his arm resting on his back. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to get some of the grainy sleep out of them. "Probably not," he replied.

"Have they called?"

"Yeah, they did." He yawned silently. "Before we left."

"That's good." Victor sounded thoughtful. After a brief silence, he continued. "Are you doing okay?"

"Iㅡ"

"I'm sorry."

It came as a surprise, his interjection. Sounding so sincere, so full of shame. He wanted to look up at him, but abandoned the thought when he felt Victor's cheek on his forehead. Almost holding his breath, waiting for what was to come.

"You know… I just don't know where to start." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Yuuri."

They sat silent for a while, as they were. Lost in their own thoughts. To Yuuri, it felt like an apology was welcomed but at the same time, it was like putting a band-aid to a gushing wound. He wasn't okay. An apology wouldn't change that. He wasn't sure what possibly could.

He put his hand on Victor's thigh, just to make him know that he'd heard him. Deciding to bottle it up. Lock away and press down the tearing disappointment, the crippling anger, the flickering despair. A lot that had transpired during the weekend felt impossible to deal with, at least for now, so he did what he felt the most comfortable with doing. Carrying it within him, without letting anyone know. Just to make sure he wasn't a burden. That he wasn't a bother.

He wondered what Victor would think of him if he voiced his opinions. That he'd been mauled by him, trying to do what was asked of him in order to make it easier. That it had been costly, being forced to make choices he really couldn't influence at all. Make choices he wasn't comfortable with, either accepting him to be there but not by his side or… not being there at all? The most obvious choice, the one Victor chose for him in something that in retrospect felt like he'd been taken hostage, had hurt him. It had scared him.

"I…" He stopped himself, allowed his voice to die out. He wanted to tell him, he realised. Tell him that he'd made ignorant choices, that he'd made him upset to a degree that almost made him lightheaded just thinking about it. That he had hurt him. That he never wanted to feel that way ever again, and never because of him. It felt strange to him, to taste that realisation because, at the same time, he wanted to make it easier. For _him_ , for his idol, for his coach, for his lover, for his husband. He wanted to do anything, although he couldn't bear the consequences. But he felt like a burden. A bother.

"Hey…" Victor's voice was warm, just like always, spoken against his cheek. The impeccable observer, as always quick to catch on. How he loved that side of him, how he hated it too.

Battling tension, fatigue, thoughts that were beyond what he could muster, he wanted him to stop. Stop with being so in-tune with him. Stop seeing right through him. "No, not now," he replied, thinking it was too low for him to hear.

"Yes, now." Apparently, he'd heard him. "For as long as I can, you hear me?"

He gave in without thinking twice. Letting the fingers on his jaw guide his mouth to meet his. Allowed him to kiss it away, the distress. Let him suck out the belittling thoughts he had of himself. Allowed himself to feel that his birthday had meaning, at least for a moment.

* * *

The walk from Hasetsu Station wasn't long, but it was bothersome. Treading through the sleet, forcing them to carry their luggage instead of pulling them behind. They could've travelled light, considering that the Grand Prix Final being less than ten days away from the end of the NHK Trophy, but they decided to stay for as long as possible in Hasetsu and packed accordingly.

They were getting close, seeing the Katsuki family inn in the distance. With every step, Victor couldn't help but feel nostalgia wash over him. It was bittersweet at best, leaning towards something heavier. Something darker.

He stopped underneath the entryway, seeing Yuuri continue to walk up to the entrance.

"Yuuri, wait." He waited for him to turn around and motioned for him to join him, with a little beckoning wave.

Yuuri put down his bag and approached him, with a tired look on his face. "What, Victor?"

"I just remembered," he said, sneaking an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, "coming here for the first time. Chasing after you." He laughed, amused by the memory of leaving a bewildered coach of his own to become someone else's, miles and miles away from Russia. Coming here, to Yuuri's family home, always brought out different aspects of that memory. Now, it seemed like his mind wanted to look into the memory of the chase, that desperate need of connecting with him.

"I don'tㅡ"

"Just listen, okay? Let me have this." He peered down at him, their breaths becoming smoke with every exhale out in freezing air. "I came here on a whim, with the craziest of intentions. I wanted you. I wanted you so bad."

Their eyes met. Blue looking into brown, trying to read the mood within them, behind them. Victor wasn't sure if if was because of the cold that Yuuri's eyes were glossy and constantly blinking. Knowing him, it was probably because of anything but the cold.

"Seeing you at the banquet, I justㅡ"

"Victor, please! I just can't. Not now."

He pretended like he hadn't been interrupted, like he hadn't heard him. "I just felt so unsure. You being drunk, being all over me like that. I wanted it to continue, no, begin, rather. You being close, touching me. But I disregarded that. I mean… I'm no better when I'm drunk!" He huffed, a soft kind of laugh.

Yuuri lowered his head, with a tension in his shoulders. Being very particular with not looking anywhere else than at his own feet.

"And then, that video of you skating. I saw it as proof. That you wanted me too. Or at least, wanted me to be there in some way. So, off I went."

He disregarded Yuuri's shaking, his billowing shoulders underneath his arm, the little whimpers. He needed to hear what he had to say.

"Do you remember? When you came darting through the door to the onsen? Oh, that look on your face!" He suddenly felt warm inside. "And then, when I saw that it was you, I said 'Yuuri, starting today, I'm your coach. I'll make you win the Grand Prix Final'."

He felt Yuuri's arms wrap themselves around him, felt him dig his face into his coat. Pushing in like he was hoping to disappear, get devoured by him somehow. He pulled him closer, wanting him to know that memories were meant to do this. To make him feel everything, anything he wanted to, and that it was okay. No matter the value.

"Yuuri… I've never regretted anything coming here. It was the best decision I ever made."

He decided to wait. To let the ebb and flow that acted out in his embrace to become still. And when the current disappeared, became all mirror-like and calm on the surface, he hoped that his lips would act as a layer of ice. Locking that calmness into place.

* * *

They entered the inn quietly. Not surprising at all, the lights were out. Leaving a greyish-blue tint and a calm ambience.

"Do we just go upstairs, you think," Victor whispered.

"Yes," Yuuri replied, his voice being strained from him shedding layers upon layers of tension and emotion outside. "I'm tired. You go up, I'll find bedclothes."

He watched Victor walk upstairs to his room. It was a familiar picture, one that normally would have infused him with a calm. Now, having Victor here, felt like a countdown to something, like his own demise. Something he wanted to fight off and not deal with.

He felt his pulse take off immediately. The understanding of telling his family that his husband was going to… He couldn't even bring himself to _think_ that thought. How would he ever manage to _say_ it? He hadn't managed to let those words and their meaning to even peek inside of his conscious mind. Emotionally, he knew. He knew what was going on, he understood the road they were travelling on. Those fears, the immense panic he felt were only adding to and building upon his innate nervousness.

He walked as silently as he could over to the laundry room, making sure to close the door behind him before he turned on the lights. Looking through cabinets, picking out pillow cases, sheets for the futon mattresses. Piling them up, preparing to take them with him upstairs. He hated the sensation, the way his throat was cramping up, not letting him swallow. He thought his body was done with doing that to him, at least for today.

He stiffened up, hearing the door open. Not daring to look over his shoulder to see who was joining him. He didn't have to, he knew it was his mother. Maybe because of the sound of her footsteps, or the change of energy as she stepped inside.

"Yuuri!" She sounded surprised. Emotional, in a happy way. "Honey, why are you _here_? You said youㅡ"

It just came over him. The feeling of being small, not knowing what to do. Feeling exhausted and weary. Not really feeling like himself. So he sought her comfort, the way he used to before he started to dress himself in expectations, admonitions, rules. Before he became weak under pressure. Before he became a bother. A burden.

She was surprised too. The gasp, the not knowing what to do with her hands told him this. How they patted him, feathery-like. Showing all the signs of someone not knowing how to comfort a person who'd been pushing people away for almost as long as they both could remember.

"Yuuri?"

Her voice told him that she didn't understand. Then again, why would she? Why would she understand the reason behind him crying on his birthday, the last shivering minutes that remained of it? Why would she understand the reason behind him crying after making it to the Grand Prix Final? He should be happy. But there was so much that she didn't know, that she didn't understand.

"Mom…" He had one arm around her, the other covering his mouth. Trying hard to keep sounds inside, trying hard to respect her and the way she was used to act around him.

"Yuuri? What's taking you soㅡ" The sound of _his_ voice, disappearing into nothing. Softly overpowered by sniffs and erratic breaths.

" _Oh, Victor is here too?_ "

" _Mhm…"_

He felt another pair of arms around him. Comparing them with those of his mother's, they were purposeful. Tuned in to him, to the moment. Honed to perfection, knowing exactly what to do.

"Not today, Yuuri. Okay? Let's go upstairs."

" _Honey, what is he saying? Is everything good with you?"_

"I just want to…" He changed language in mid-sentence. " _I… no, it's… it's okay, mom. I'm tired. So tired. I just want to go to bed."_

She let go first, the hiss of her slippers against the floor indicated that she gave them space. But she remained there. Watching them, silently. Trying to make sense of them, he thought.

" _Mom, it's okay._ " He peered at her, just a quick glance over Victor's shoulder. " _We… we're okay._ "

He eased up his grip around him, letting him go with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he mouthed, wiping his nose before reaching for the bedclothes.

"Love, don't be. I'm just going to say hi to your mom and then we can go. Okay?"

He nodded slowly. " _Mom, I'll just…_ " He slid past her, stopped on the other side of the doorway. Listening to the hobbled conversation of two people trying to connect past the boundaries of language, not letting the difficulties stop them.

* * *

The slow breaths told him that he was close, within seconds of falling asleep. With no space in between them, fitting perfectly together, it had taken just a few minutes for Yuuri to grow heavy in his arms.

Victor had tried to keep it light when they left Yuuri's mother, when they prepared the mattresses on the floor, when they crowded the bathroom together. He had to restrain himself from trying too hard. Constantly reminding himself to respect Yuuri's need to go through what he was feeling without him distracting him, without him chasing after a smile. After all, trying to make him smile was a purely selfish endeavour, something that would probably make him feel better than Yuuri.

He felt the little tell-tale twitch against his chest. He was asleep now, hopefully residing in a place where he could feel the power of being in control. Where nothing would impair him, where he could make anything and everything go away with just a fleeting wish.

He buried his nose in his hair with a little sigh. He felt remorseful. The day had been nothing like he'd hoped. It had been full of tension, stress, unhappiness and words unspoken. Feelings unconveyed, at least the warmer ones, the more positive ones. He couldn't let it go, feeling highly responsible for how everything had played out.

Seeing Yuuri being close to Hiroko, wanting her to take the hurt away had been excruciating to watch. It told him much, if not everything of the fear and desperation that resided in him. He wasn't a person who opened up, he wasn't a person who invited people inside to take a look and rummage around in his inner baggage. Of course she was his mother, but Yuuri was specific about who he felt comfortable opening up to. Him seeking comfort from his family was a chapter Victor understood to be slightly complicated, probably because of the unbelievably high standards Yuuri had forced himself to reach. At the same time, they were always there. His family. Not so much in actions and words, but definitely in an emotional sense.

Trying not to think about what would happen when they, he and Yuuri, would tell them the news that was a partial reason to their visit, made him clench his jaw. All of that, the prospect of creating a devastating moment and upsetting people in the process, would have to come later. Tomorrow was all about Yuuri. About them.

"You're going to love it," he whispered into Yuuri's hair. "It'll be just you and me. Just like before."


	36. Year One: Winter, part seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Victor wasn't surprised to see Yuuri still sleeping next to him when he woke up the following morning. He had counted on him to, and he felt good that Yuuri was predictable in that sense. It would make it easier.

He studied him for a minute. He got caught up noticing how the black hair fell into his eyes. How the light huffs sounded when he exhaled. How at peace he looked being asleep. He touched his bottom lip, just the lightest of touches, before feeling them with his own. _Oh, how I want to keep you like this. My love._

He got up as quietly as he could and softly treaded across the floor to his luggage, picking out sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie. As he started to dress, he realised that there was something about Hasetsu that made his life easier. It had been like that since the very start, when he got there almost three years ago. When he and Yuuri met for the first time, when their sport was the reason for them getting together. Braiding together their paths in a manner he still felt thankful for, even though his feelings for the sport had waned and turned into a necessary evil.

That feeling of life being easier here still remained, although it was slightly different now. The context was totally opposite. He didn't have to look over his shoulder, he could be more relaxed. It was like a safe harbor in a way, a dedicated little place where it felt like things could be put off for just a little while. Where it was okay for him to be himself. Where he could concentrate on other things, lighter things, without it feeling forced or strange. Without being constantly reminded of how it really was. Where he could focus on _him_.

He walked over to the desk and picked up his phone, putting it into the pocket of his sweats. He sighed a little, knowing that he would disrupt that feeling soon. Definitely not today and maybe not even tomorrow, but it would happen. It had to, there was no other way. He hoped that he wouldn't taint the place and its meaning once everything was out in the open, wishing that it would remain the haven it needed to be, down the road. Not as much for him but for Yuuri.

With his hand on the handle of the door, he decided to forget about all that. At least for today. To let the calm before the storm be all and everything, something that he could rest in. After all, this day was important, for a lot of reasons. He pushed down the handle as quietly as he could and stepped outside, making sure to close the door with the same soft click.

He walked down the hall and down the stairs. The inn was quiet, he couldn't spot any guests as he peered into the dining hall. _It really is like the calm before the storm. How fitting._

He turned and walked towards the kitchen, hearing low and muffled voices from within.

" _Good morning_ ," he said in Japanese as he passed through the door. He felt a little surprised when he noticed his face instantly creating a smile, one that felt genuine too. It had felt totally different inside, just a minute ago. _I really love his family._

He was greeted with the same warmth, the same sense of belonging as always. A handshake from Toshiya, a nod and a quick hug from Mari. A hand on his cheek by Hiroko. He disregarded the sting inside, determined not to get ahead of himself. The bad news was for later, not now. Not today. Today was supposed to be all about their son and brother.

He took up his phone and opened Google Translate, typing in what he wanted to say. "Hiroko? _Breakfast_ ," he said, reading from his phone. "For Yuuri?"

" _Breakfast for Yuuri,_ " she parroted back, immediately heading in the direction of the stove.

"No, Hiroko. Wait," he said whilst typing again. " _Show me. I want to make._ "

Hiroko looked puzzled and turned to her daughter, asking a question by the tone of her voice.

"You cook?" Mari had apparently been given the task of making sense. Trying hard with her limited knowledge in English.

"Yes. I want to cook for Yuuri. Can Hiroko show me? _Show me. Breakfast?_ "

* * *

Walking up the stairs with the tray in his hands made him feel warm inside. Proud, almost. Somehow, the results on that tray didn't feel as important as the time spent making them. Being together with Yuuri's family, laughing together at his shortcomings when the communication was faltering... Victor knew that he couldn't give them more than that, the time spent doing something together. Making them something to remember him by, besides all the worry. All the uncertainties that really was a definite. Something they had yet to discover.

He knew that the members of the Katsuki family were thankful for a lot of things. He'd understood as much during the visits he and Yuuri made to Japan. He had seen their faces when he had helped their son and brother achieving some of his dreams, like making it to the Grand Prix Final for the first time, him winning Worlds. The silent understanding when they've noticed that he'd helped him find something that had made him develop, made him grow. That was something they always would attribute to him, to the love between them. He felt happy that he could repay their kindness, by leaving bits and pieces of himself with them. Through Yuuri.

He balanced the tray with one hand as he opened the door, slowly walking inside before he closed it behind him. _Still sleeping. Of course he is._

The little laugh just bubbled up, seeing Yuuri in the exact same spot. Still with his hair obscuring his face, still with his lips slightly apart. He walked the few steps over to the futon, kneeling slowly not to spill anything and put the tray on the floor. He reclined beside him, touched his face with a couple of fingers.

"Yuuri? Darling, it's time to wake up."

No reaction. None whatsoever.

He huffed in amusement. "Guess I must try a little harder, then."

He leaned in, keeping a hand on his jaw. Getting his tongue inside his mouth was easy. Waking him this way only took a moment, their tongues meeting softly without almost any pressure.

"Good morning," he whispered against his lips when he started to stir. Almost holding his breath in anticipation to see those brown eyes open.

"Mmmh…"

"Good morning, Yuuri. I'm sorry for waking you but… we have plans."

"Nnnh… wh… what time is it?"

"It doesn't matter. We have time. All the time in the world today. Hey… open your eyes. I've missed you."

Another moment, one of those he wanted to record and keep inside himself until he couldn't anymore. Seeing how Yuuri's eyes moved underneath his eyelids, how he pressed them tightly together before opening them. How his pupils dilated slightly when they made eye contact, how a smile took over instantly when he understood what he was seeing.

"Good morning, Victor."

"Morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Mhm. I did," he said with a yawn.

"You know," he said softly whilst touching his lips with his thumb, "I couldn't celebrate you properly yesterday so this is me wishing you a happy birthday." He looked over to the tray. "I brought you breakfast."

He was rewarded with a kiss, one where their tongues met with more pressure than before.

"You shouldn't have, Victor. Thank you. Have you eaten already?"

"No, there's enough for both of us. Sit up." He leaned over and took the tray, placing it in front of himself. He took a bowl of rice with a raw egg on top and handed it over with a smile.

Yuuri made an appreciative sound when he noticed what was brought to him. "I really must thank mom for this."

Victor could only laugh in response. "You do that, love. Don't scold her if it tastes bad, okay?"

Their eyes met. Victor found Yuuri's puzzled look amusing. He could see him trying to understand the meaning behind the words before he spoke.

"Wait… _you_ did this?"

"Mhm. With a little help. Happy birthday, love."

* * *

They ate together. The two of them sitting close, deliberately letting their bodies touch with every slight movement they made. Giving each other a look, a smile, every time they connected. Victor realised that they had strayed from this, lost their way. Forgotten about the easygoing, carefree mornings from before. The feeling of not having a care in the world, enjoying nothing but each other's company. The embodiment of life and love together.

"You know," Yuuri said after finishing his tea, "I'm impressed. I think you need to spend some more time in the kitchen when we get home."

Victor snickered in response and gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Your mother is an awesome coach."

"I'll tell her you said that."

"Please do. So, Yuuri… Want your birthday present?"

"You're making me sound greedy, stop it," he responded with a laugh.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. One moment."

He stood up and walked over to his luggage, digging his way down into the bottom. He'd hid it good, Yuuri's gift. Wrapped up and tucked away underneath several pieces of clothing, just to be safe that he wouldn't spot it accidentally.

"Here, love. Happy birthday." He handed it over, and sat down beside him again. "I wanted to give you this after Worlds, but I ended up marrying you instead so…"

He watched as Yuuri started to unwrap his gift, taking his time. He was always doing that, making sure to peel off the tape and keep the wrapping paper pristine for some reason. One of those endearing things he loved about him.

"No. Victor, no!"

"You know what it is already," he asked with a smile. Of course he did, the box gave it all away. "Open it properly before you thank me, okay?"

Yuuri only peeked inside the box, with a smile that almost made his heart stop. When he put the lid back, Victor could see that Yuuri's eyes were threatening to overflow when they made contact with his. He was trying hard to blink away the tears, putting a hand in front of his mouth.

"Happy birthday, love. Gold for a gold medalist, you know. Come on, take them out."

He did what he was told, opening the box again. Properly, this time. Sitting with it in his lap for a while before he had the courage to remove the skates from it.

"Victor… I…" He sniffed. "They're just like yours. I… I just…"

He pulled him close before he could say anything else. Truth be told, he had bought the skates some time before Worlds. He had been planning on giving him skates with gold coloured blades as soon as he'd won his first championship for quite some time, but… life got in the way. Like it usually does when you're taking it for granted.

"Are you happy?" He whispered the question into his ear. He felt him nodding against him in response. "So, love… Would you humor me and break them in today? Just for a little while? I would love to see them on you."

"Are we going to Ice Castle, you mean?"

"Yes, if you feel up to it." He paused for a second. "Please?"

He could hear him sniff a little before he eased up his arms around him. "You mean, right now?"

"Why not, it would be fun."

"Sure. Victor, I… I don't deserve this. I… thank you."

"Of course you do, love. Don't mention it. Go and get dressed, I'll pack your backpack."

* * *

They were quick to get ready, exiting the inn with just a brief mention that they would be gone for a while. They walked together, holding hands, talking about the weather that made them both pick up their pace. It was exceptionally windy, making them tightening their mufflers around their necks and pulling down their beanies some more to stay warm.

When they were walking up to the entrance of the rink, Victor felt Yuuri tug a little at his arm.

"Victor, I can take the backpack now."

"We're not even inside yet, Yuuri. Take it easy." He gave him a little smile.

"Why are you insisting on carrying it?"

"Hm? Oh, no reason at all," he responded in a cheery voice. "After you."

They walked inside and was met by a silence. The Ice Castle was empty, all according to plan. Victor felt his heart beat a little faster. This would be an amazing day.

They entered the locker rooms together. Yuuri wanted to take out his skates from the backpack, but Victor stopped him with a laugh and a meaning look. He knew that his behaviour was slightly conspicuous, but it didn't matter now. Yuuri wouldn't understand before it was all in motion anyway. Of that, he was sure.

"Here are your skates, love," he said after taking them out of the backpack. "I'll be holding on to your bag for you. Lace up, I'm going to the bathroom." He squeezed his shoulder, taking the backpack with him.

Standing inside the bathroom, he listened intently. Listened as Yuuri stood up and walked off. Hearing the rattling sound of the skate guards on the floor as the door to the ice opened and closed. When the silence was a fact, he unlocked the door and got out.

_My love. You don't know it, but your birthday is about to start for real._

* * *

Yuuri entered the ice with a smile on his face. So far, the belated celebration of his birthday had been lovely. Except for the weather.

He took off, started doing some basic figures on the ice while he waited for Victor. New skates were always such a pain to break in when they were new, before the leather of the boot had set itself properly. He knew he wouldn't be using them when he skated in the Grand Prix Final, there wasn't enough time to make them comfortable enough, but maybe for Nationals.

He picked up the pace a little, started doing some simple jumps, and some spins. After a while, he spotted the blurry outlines of Victor on the other side of the boards.

"Victor, what are you doing?" It looked like he was setting up something, but without his glasses on, it was impossible to tell.

"Just continue, love. I love watching you skate." His voice echoed across the ice, sounding extremely tongue-in-cheek.

Yuuri started doing some movements from his free skate, before his curiousity got the better of him. He skated over to Victor and was met with a beaming smile.

"You look happy," he said as he got closer. "Hey, a camera? What for?"

"Yuuri. My love. This is your birthday present."

"The camera?" He felt confused. "We have phones so whyㅡ"

Victor chuckled a little before he sat down on the edge of the boards, and motioned for Yuuri to come closer.

Feeling his hands cup his face made his heart race immediately, made his thoughts take off in a thousand different directions. There was a shift in energy that Yuuri couldn't understand. It felt different from just a few seconds ago, it felt electric. The kiss did too. It wasn't only electric, it was hot and needy. Full of something he wasn't used to experience at an ice rink. Something that made him feel a flutter in the pit of his stomach.

"Vic… Victor, whatㅡ"

"Schh, love."

He felt one of Victor's hands disappear and heard a little beep almost immediately after, realising that Victor had pressed the recording button of the camera.

"You see, Yuuri… This is your present. Happy birthday."

He felt Victor's other hand disappear from his face, watched him swing his legs over the boards. It was surreal to him, like his world suddenly stopped revolving around its axis, or at least slowed down so that everything happened as if in slow motion. Helping him to understand it all, although he didn't.

Seeing Victor put his feet on the ice, watch him stroke past him with ease, stopping a couple of yards away with a hiss of his skates... He started to tremble within seconds when his soul registred what was about to happen, seconds before his mind did. Making him incapacitated to do nothing but breathe.

"This is why we couldn't be home, love. I'm sorry for the secrecy, but it was for a good cause. I just wanted to surprise you." He reached out his hand with that smile. That supernova smile that was only used for him. "Yuuri Katsuki. My life, my love, my husband. Will you do me the honor and skate with me?"

Yuuri wasn't sure what happened first, if he took Victor's hand or if he ended up on his knees on the ice. But he got pulled up, got enveloped in an embrace that he never wanted to end. Fearing that he would shatter if it did, fearing that it wouldn't be something left of either of them after that moment if they were to let go.

It was through a thick, dissociative haze he heard him speak. That voice he never wanted to go quiet, the voice he knew he couldn't live to be without. The voice belonging to his coach, his best friend, his lover, his husband.

"Oh, love… don't cry. We're going to make memories today. Just you and I."


	37. Year One: Winter, part eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

The sat together, almost in silent contemplation. Hearing nothing but the low hum of the ventilation inside the skating rink. Victor, with his arm around Yuuri's shoulders. Yuuri, leaning his head against Victor.

They both knew that they'd been given a very rare moment together, being alone. Being able to skate together for the first time since it all began. Being thankful that it had actually happened. And now, they were filled with their own thoughts, thoughts differing vastly from the other's. Somehow, they understood that it was okay. That they would remember that moment in totally different ways. That they would never have to talk about it, because their differing truths were still just that. Truths.

Victor heard Yuuri sigh a little. A vibrating sigh. He'd been upset for a while, but that didn't come as a surprise. Of course he reacted like he did, being overrun with emotion. Crying into his shoulder. Clambering on to him for a while before they could do anything that resembled skating. Repeatedly whispering "no". But that changed. He'd joined him, being nothing but touches and being close, initially. Clearly not wishing for the moment to end by not letting him go, by not being more than an arm's length away. After a while, he was smiling. Laughing. Getting lost in the music they created together as they moved across the ice.

To Victor, that was all that mattered. That he could still bring joy to the life of the one he'd chosen. It made him feel good about himself, that not all was lost. That they could fill the undisclosed time they had left with good things. Happy things. He needed that for himself too, to feel that he wasn't a disaster waiting to happen. A bomb that could go off and leave devastation in his wake. He was thankful for Yuuri, for letting him feel that they still had something worth… well, fighting for. Still something worth remembering and still something worth nurturing and taking care of. That he could make a difference for him, still. That he could make it easier for him to be who he was.

He tightened his grip around his shoulder for a few seconds, before rubbing it a bit. Feeling him underneath his hand. It felt like the words that followed would turn the moment of bliss into the reality they had been wanting to escape for a while, no matter how carefully chosen they were. He knew that the spell had to be broken, although it hurt.

"Yuuri? Love?"

"Mhm?"

"I just…" He huffed a little one syllable kind of sound. Amused by the fact that it felt hard, for some reason. Hard to step out of the spell, the bubble, they had created for each other. "I just wanted to know if you're okay. Are you happy?"

It was silent for a while. Victor figured that Yuuri was feeling the same. That no matter what words he would choose in return, it would make it all dissipate. Their moment. Their lifeline. The understanding that their little instant, one out of millions that could have happened on that particular day, in that particular place in time, would go from being a truth to a memory in the blink of an eye.

"I am. Of course I am." His answer was almost inaudible, almost too low to hear although they sat as close as they possibly could. "It's… today's been… I mean, this…" He shifted underneath his arm, put one hand against his chest. Asking for eye contact with that little touch.

As always, when brown mirrors of the soul met blue, nothing else mattered. Nothing ever could.

Watching Yuuri, how he was trying to dress his feelings into words, how he was struggling making what he was feeling comprehensible, seeing that small quiver play across his lower lip… He had to reward him for that. Mend that. Empower that.

He tilted his head back a little with a couple of fingers on his jawline, stroked his nose with his own and exhaled against his mouth. It was soft, their meeting. The way their lips barely touched and yet, their union was all and everything that could be desired from a kiss. With hands on top of hands, foreheads close, they prepared for the moment to end. Prepared to step into the reality again, out in the biting wind that had claimed Hasetsu.

Yuuri's voice was nothing but a whisper, his eyes veiled by black lashes, when he finally spoke. "Today… It was all I ever wanted."

* * *

They returned to the Katsuki family inn, battling the wind and the increasing snowfall on their way back. They were told to relax, maybe spend some time in the hot spring before dinner, although they insisted on helping out with the cooking. Not before long, they were ushered out with a playfully stern look by Hiroko, who told Yuuri that she couldn't deal having Victor in the kitchen more than once a day, to which they laughed. Instead, they showered, and returned to Yuuri's room once they were done.

"I'll be sore tomorrow. No, tonight, even," Victor mused as they lay entwined on the futon mattresses on the floor. "Can't even remember the last time I wore skates."

"Maybe you shouldn't have. Skated, I mean."

Victor was taken aback by the shift in Yuuri's mood. He had the question on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to ask him what happened that brought it on, but he restrained himself. He knew why. He understood him perfectly.

Yuuri was ticking off a list. The reasons for them being there, in Hasetsu. The belated celebration of his birthday had just been fulfilled, leaving him with the building worry of having to deal with the other side of the coin. The one happening Victor wanted to help him through. The one he desperately needed him to face. Telling his family about what was going to happen. To him, to them, to everyone they had close.

He wondered how to approach him, how to meet him. He could just downplay his comment, pretend that it didn't have any substance at all and attribute it to Yuuri being tired. He could face him head on, attack him with a well thought out retort, but that felt cruel. The time they had spent together at the skating rink needed to be treated with respect, needed to carry them for a little while longer. Or, he could tip-toe around it, try to nudge him a little. See if it would take spin and prepare himself to catch him if need be.

He started by putting his hand on the back of Yuuri's head, pull him slightly closer. He relaxed a little inside when he realised that he wasn't resisting him, when his head just ended up close. Exactly where he wanted him to be. He decided to see if they could talk about it, or at least acknowledge that there was something there. Something they didn't need after a day spent together in a way they had been yearning to do for so long.

"What a thing to say, love," Victor started, making sure to keep his tone of voice free from anything that could be interpreted as judgemental. "I loved it. I needed it, too."

He felt Yuuri readjust his arms around him, but he remained silent.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, although I would like it if you did. If anything else, just listen, okay?"

He felt him sigh against him. It was as if Yuuri knew that they would end up like this, have this moment of discord together after sharing something beyond compare just a few hours prior.

"I know, Yuuri. I know that you're tense. That you're building up. But you know what? We're not having that talk today. Not tomorrow either, you hear?"

He felt the smallest of nods against his chest, in his hand on the back of Yuuri's head.

"Good. I want you to have what we shared today for a little while longer. I'm not going to take that away from you. I don't know if you're aware, but… Honey, I needed that too. Also," he continued, wondering if he was out on thin ice or not, "talking to them, your family, isn't going to take that away. That moment was yours and mine and we will always share that. Okay?"

"I'm scared." His voice was weak. There was sadness in his voice now, something that made Victor feel a sadness within him, too. It teared and clawed at him, making him experience a blow of insecurity.

"Oh, Yuuri… I know. I'm scared too." He took a deep breath. Trying to steady himself. Trying to keep his voice unaffected by the turn the conversation had started to take. "I'm scared for you. Scared when I think about what might happen if we can't go through with it. But you know… telling them won't change anything. Not really. I understand where you come from, I understand how it makes you feel having to do it, but… it'll still be you and me. You and me, love. Telling them won't change that."

"Vi… Victor, do you ever…" Yuuri's voice died out, taken over by quiet sniffs and sobs.

"Yuuri? Honey, please…" He buried his face in his hair, holding his breath. Not wanting to add to the burden by letting go of his self-control. He tightened his grip around him instead, hoping that holding on to him would make it easier.

He felt Yuuri push himself away from him, just a little. He let him escape, and felt his hands on his face. Inching up towards his head. His hands were warm from what he was feeling, warm from what was happening inside him.

"Victor?" His voice sounded steadier, but still full of all that he still hadn't been able to say. His hands were mirroring the exact same thing. Burning with all the things still unsaid. "I… I need to know something. Promise me you'll answer."

"I'll answer. Anything you want, love."

They locked eyes with each other, feeling everything else cease to matter as soon as they had access to one another.

"Do… do you ever feel like…" Yuuri started to blink, again and again. Not managing to get his aqueous emotions to stay on the inside of him anymore. As the tears started to escape his eyes, he lost his composure, lost the control of his voice. "Do you ever feel like giving up?! Have you ever wished for… for it…"

"Yuuri, no. Don'tㅡ"

"Have you ever wished for it to stop?!"

* * *

As soon as he uttered the words, he hid his face. Went inside himself as he got taken over by the convulsing heartache. But he needed to know. Needed to know the answer to his question, although he wasn't in a state to comprehend, to take it in. But it was out there now. His fear, maybe his biggest fear after the inevitable goodbye they would have to go through.

The sadness felt different now. It had the same depth, the same darkness, but the pain… the pain was more intense. It was a mind-numbing, crippling pain that he'd never experienced before. One that just kept on tearing pieces out of him, with no intentions of ever stopping. Like his humanity, his sanity, got taken from him with every try he did to draw breath. Losing himself ever so slightly with every passing second.

He felt his hands get pulled from his face. At least, that's what he thought was happening. He wasn't sure if he was shaking on his own accord or if he was shook by something outside of himself, but it didn't matter. He was too far down to make it back, not even interested in breaking the surface. Feeling the depths as a relief, a way to end the suffering.

He started to feel lightheaded. Somehow, it felt like a reward. Like a way to escape. He started to chase that sensation, the feeling of walking close to and edge. Not knowing if he would fall or not, but praying for it nonetheless. How glorious it would feel to just slip away. Leave what he was feeling behind and end up in another reality where such emotions were unfamiliar. Where they were banned from existence.

Something broke through the darkness though, called for his undivided attention. Images of being close to someone else, of being held and guided. Of making music together with someone else, moments of fingers entwined and hearts beating as one. Of being caressed by not only hands, but by eyes and smiles. Of feeling life returning to him, with lips against his. Breaths being expired into him, filling him up with meaning. Filling him up with life. With love.

He wanted that, he needed that in order to go on. To continue whatever his existence could be called, whatever it could be labelled as. When the thought took root in himself, the pain slowly subsided. Became nothing more than a small prick. No, he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to leave all of that behind, he wasn't ready to let himself succumb just yet. He needed more of that, so much more of that illuminating closeness in order to find himself.

He needed _him._ He needed _him_ to show him the way. To prepare him for when he would have to stand alone. When he would have to face the rest of his life without him by his side. But he wasn't ready. He knew he would never be, for only memories could never be enough.


	38. Year One: Winter, part nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small hiatus is incoming, due to life being busy.  
> This is not the end of this arc. More is definitely coming, but this is a good place to pause the story. For me, at least. Hope you can hold your breaths until then <3
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and commenting!
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

When the thoughts broke through into his conscious mind, Victor almost felt sick to his stomach. Like something unspeakable grew in his mouth. Something that tasted so vile horrid he was afraid that he would never forget that flavour. He knew why the disgust became so apparent. He was ashamed of himself.

He had been ready to tell him off. In a second of helplessness, one that happened exactly at the same time as Yuuri retreated into himself, he wanted to tell him to get a hold of himself. He wanted to tell him to stop his crying, to stop filtering his despair through him. In that brief second, he wanted to stop being the sewer he felt like he'd become. A belief that became sustained time and time again, every time he became the receiver. The patient receiver who never was given the same opportunities or benefits in return.

It had only lasted but a second, but it felt like it was a new reality now. Something that rung true. Something that had left a mark, something that managed to break through and pierce its way deep into him.

That wasn't him. He never wanted to be that person with him. He never wanted Yuuri to feel like his thoughts and feelings were invalid. But in that little second, that abhorrent moment in time, that was exactly what he'd wanted Yuuri to realise. That he had time, endless amounts of time to do all of that bullshit, but not now. That he wasn't the one dying. He was the one who was living and would keep on doing so. That he was the one who would keep on experiencing things, feeling things. Remembering things. And he was wrong, so utterly and completely wrong to feel sorry about himself. Wrong to leave him with that immense sorrow, that grief. All of that he wanted to open up, let out and feel within himself. But he was robbed. Constantly having that taken away when being forced to console him.

It had only lasted but a second, but something had started to sprout. Victor realised that as he was holding him, the one person he felt faint thinking about not being able to meet every day. Not being able to kiss every day. Not being able to talk to every day. Not being able to share a laugh with every day. Not being able to share that immense and indescribable feeling every day, that he'd only ever felt being together with him. At some point, that would be the truth. He wouldn't be able to any of these things, but still… _He_ was comforting _him_?

Yuuri had been calm for a while now. He wasn't asleep, his breathing told Victor as much. The way he sensed a little pressure against his chest was another sign. He could, in theory, answer Yuuri's question. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure if he could do it without unnecessary heat. Without letting that second of disdain from before colour his response.

"L-love?" He hated that he sounded so unsure. Stuttering like he was afraid. In a way, he was. Of himself. He understood that he had something in him, something he wanted to tie down. Something he wanted to exile and never allow out into the light. How to sate that need of answering without killing something? Killing _them_?

"I would… I would like to answer your question. If you think you want to hear the answer? But we won't say anything else. Not today."

He counted the seconds. Eighteen seconds is a long time spent listening to absolutely nothing, especially when you're waiting. Waiting for something you in part have longed for and at the same time have started to feel apprehensive about.

After eighteen seconds, the answer finally came. Arms finding their way around him, like they strived to ground them both. A sigh, one that was filled with dejection coming from a person who was backed into a corner with no means to escape. And a 'yes' almost non-existent, like it was an intangible thing that still could open up a very real box filled with secrets. All of those things he'd been keeping from him in order to make it easier.

He tightened his grip around him in return, that one second forgotten due to eighteen spent waiting. Due to arms around him, due to a sigh and a yes.

"Yuuri… Yes. The answer is yes."

Accelerated breathing against him, scorching huffs of air. Probably two a second. Nothing more.

"Can I look at you? Love?"

An embrace that grew tighter. Like air was being squeezed out of him, his lungs, the origin to all of this. Where all of this had started once. A retribution on his part, maybe? Or just the need to feel something being alive, still? He considered the action to be an answer, a definite 'no'.

"Yuuri? I want to talk to you. Hey?" He tried to push him away, just a little. Wanting to see him instead of having him hiding against him. "Yuuri? Come on, let go. Can't you just… talk to me? Let me look at you?"

And with that, the second and everything it had evoked within him was back, flaring up inside him. This time, it consumed him.

"Honestly, Yuuri!" He pushed himself up with his arms, feeling irritated that he still clung to him. Being so incapacitated, so clingy. "Let go of me!" He was on his knees now, not knowing what to think of the situation, other than listening to the blood pounding in his temples. "Listen! I know you can hear me, let me go! What are you doing?!"

As he tried to stand, he was set free. Now, he stopped caring about if he wasn't going to get eyes or words in return. Not bothering to look at the pile of a person at his feet.

He pulled out clothes from his luggage and dressed himself. It's strange how being angry takes away the meticulous movements you use to get arms through sleeves, your feet through trouser legs. How a beanie just won't fit properly on your head. He felt ridiculous struggling with himself in that manner, especially since he just wanted to… _Go. Leave!_

"Yuuri! I don't feel this way because of you! I don't want anything to end because of you!" He put his hand on the door handle, pulling the door open with a little too much force. Before he walked through it, he tried one last time to get a response. "Yuuri! Say something!"

With a sigh, he walked out. Preparing to close the door. He wasn't done, he realised. He had but one more thing to say. "Right now, you're being selfish."

* * *

They didn't see each other until a few hours later when it was time for dinner. Victor had been spending those hours downstairs, trying to breathe. Trying to get in control. Trying to not let anything show on the surface. Just underneath, on a level that was skin deep, he felt everything but calm. As soon as his thoughts scattered, as soon as he couldn't keep them together, they went back and hovered around what had transpired between him and Yuuri. Like vultures they circled, hoping to strike as soon as a weakness showed.

Yuuri was called down, eventually. Not by him, though. He understood that he would get the question, or telling gestures rather, to go and fetch him. Like a child avoiding something unpleasant, he made sure not to be around his family as the table was about to get set, emerging soon after he saw Mari walk up the stairs.

It felt strange, sitting next to him. Not getting the attention he wanted and, in all honesty, not paying him much attention in return. It was obvious that his family was catching on, but he wasn't sure if they said anything about it. Yuuri wasn't interpreting like he used to.

" _Vicchan,_ " Hiroko suddenly said which made him raise his gaze to look at her, " _I have something for you. You're turning thirty this year and we won't be able to make it to Russia, but I've made you a little something. Yuuri, tell him and I'll go get it for him._ "

He watched as Hiroko got to her feet and walked off towards the room she and Toshiya used as their own.

" _Yuuri, you heard your mother. Tell Victor, okay?_ " Toshiya's voice wasn't harsh, Victor thought. Although his message was unclear to him. Sometimes, he hated that barrier that language made. Sometimes, it was an impairing circumstance. Even when you spoke the same one.

Not understanding, not getting offered the help to do so made his annoyance flare up again. But he said nothing. It wasn't the time to set something in motion, although it was painfully obvious that something was stirring. Boiling underneath his skin, waiting to erupt and take over.

Hiroko came back eventually, carrying a small gift. Neatly wrapped, as was customary.

"Thank you, Hiroko," Victor said in a puzzled voice. Understanding that he had been left to fend for his own.

" _Open it, open it!_ "

The gestures made him understand that it was indeed for him, so he unwrapped the gift and opened the small box.

It felt like a blow seeing what as in it, but he regained his composure quickly. Tried to sound a lot cheerier, tried to sell his gratitude as efficiently as he could. "No, you shouldn't have! It's lovely!" He exchanged the beanie he had on for the one in the box. Lowering his head to prevent everyone else from seeing his slow exhale through his mouth.

"She made it herself." Yuuri's voice made him turn his head towards the sound. That voice, devoid of emotion. " _Thanks for the food._ "

Realising he had nothing but a short window of time to speak to him, he inhaled. Irritation spilled over, he heard that himself. "Yuuri, come on! Can't you tell her that Iㅡ"

"Do it yourself. You know how to say 'thank you'." His voice grew weak as he walked out of the dining hall and turned right. Up the stairs again.

"Yuuri!" He scoffed, and realised a little too late that he had. Feeling awkward and noticing how the rest of the Katsuki family exchanged meaning looks amongst each other.

He didn't sit there for long. If he had been annoyed before, he was starting to feel infuriated now. There was only one possible way to make that go away. He would make him listen. Or better yet, talk.

 

**~**~**

 

He made sure to close the door behind him in a way that wasn't mirroring what he was feeling on the inside. As soon as he heard the soft click, his eyes scanned the room. Looking for him.

He got a brief look before it was turned away. It was all it took. It flared up again.

"Yuuri! What the hell was that downstairs? What's wrong with you?!"

If Victor had paid attention to his husband being curled up on the mattress, he would have seen him jolt, taken aback by the harshness of his voice. But he didn't. He was too engaged with himself, too frustrated and resentful to even notice.

"Are _you_ giving _me_ the silent treatment? Making it strange in front of your family? Just walking off like that? What is going on with you?!"

Not getting a single reaction, not even as much as a glance or a shrug only added to his increasing anger.

"Is that the way it's going to be from now on? Huh? Say something, Yuuri! I'm not _gone_ yet!"

He got a look in response. A bewildered one. One where wide eyes and a slightly open mouth should have told him much, if he had been slightly more regulated. One where tears normally would have made him stop his ranting. But it only spurred him on, provoked him.

"Is this what it's all about? Are you too wrapped up in what you're going to say to your family that you just can't see what the hell you're doing? How you're acting?"

"I… I can't…"

"No, I know! You just can't. Tell me something you _can_ , because I'm so tired of this, Yuuri! No, let me tell you what _I_ can't! I can't have it like this! I fucking can't!"

"I'm trying! Victor, I'm trying!"

"Trying what? Huh? Honestly whyㅡ"

"It's not easy for me! Stop it!"

"It's not easy for you? _For you_? If that's the case, then what the hell are we doing here, huh? There's one way to make it a whole lot easier. Let's just get the cat out of the bag RIGHT NOW! Let's go down there and tell your family that I'm going to fucking die, because that is what is going to happen!"

The silence was brief but ear-deafening before low sobs behind hands took over. Eyes overflowing but not looking away. Brown eyes connecting with what had been said, reacting to it.

It took a while for him to realise what he had said. What he was seeing. But when he did, his world shattered.

"Yuuri… I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" He sat down in front of him, there on the floor. Wanting to touch him, wanting to make it undone. All of it. Every heartbreaking piece of it. But he saw the cues. He wasn't allowed to touch him, make it undone. But he tried to get invited again. Tried to soften him. "I didn't… it's not because of you, honey. It's not because of you!"

"...don't…"

"Yuuri, please… I'm sorry. I…" _What? I didn't mean it? But… I did, didn't I?_

He watched as Yuuri got up and erratically gathered up things. His pillow, the clothes he'd slept in, something from his desk.

"Love, stop. You don't have to go. Stay. Stay with me!"

"No, I… I don't feel…" He was seemingly fighting the tears, the whimpers crowding his throat. Making him hard to understand. "...comfortable sleeping here! I'll go. Downstairs and…"

"Don't be ridiculous. Stay. Sleep here with me."

"...tomorrow. I…"

The door closed with the softest of clicks. Creating an insurmountable divide.

* * *

He sat on the top of the stairs. Burying his face in his pillow. Waiting to run dry. He couldn't make sense of things. How the day had started and how it ended. What had been said and done when it began and all of that he just lived through. Why did the hours in between feel like another time in history? Like something that had transpired a lifetime ago? Why couldn't those warm and happy emotions be woken up, why couldn't they outcrowd all of that he felt inside?

To Yuuri, the exchange proved that he was a bother, a burden. Something that aggravated and annoyed. Something that was selfish and incapable. All of that, he knew already. That was how he looked upon himself. The essence of him in his own eyes. But it was devastating to understand that others, and especially the one who had his heart in his hands, felt the same.

He decided to sneak down the stairs and head towards a room, any room. He just couldn't stay with him. Not tonight, not after all that. He wouldn't be able to relax next to him, let alone sleep. He thought about the feeling of having him close, having his arms around him but that made him sick to his stomach. There was just no way he could let him do that. Also, he was pretty sure _he_ wouldn't want to do that either.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he tried to move as quickly as he could. Heading towards one of the smaller guest rooms he knew was unoccupied. He sighed in relief when he closed the sliding door behind him, only to get called out almost immediately.

"Yuuri? Why are you down here?" He was kind of glad that it was his father. He was slightly oblivious for the most part. Or rather, he was rarely asking questions.

He tried to find some tone of voice that sounded normal, unaffected by what had happened upstairs. "I… I'll be sleeping down here."

"Oh?"

"Yes." _Please, don't ask anything else. Please, dad._

"Are you okay?"

"Y… yes, I'm fine. It's… Victor wasn't… he wasn't feeling well so I… I won't be bothering him if I'm down here, so…"

He saw his father's silhouette on the other side of the sliding door. He was holding his breath, hoping for him to leave. Hoping for him not to decide to be a father full of questions or advice, at least not tonight.

"How are you, Yuuri?"

"Dad, I'm fine! Just… I'm just tired, okay?"

There was a small silence before his dad spoke. "Goodnight, son. See you tomorrow."

_He knows._

 

**~**~**

 

He couldn't sleep alone either. The unrest in his body just wouldn't subside. It felt like a tingle, a painful itch that just kept on tearing him. It didn't matter what he did. If he shifted there on his mattress, if he had his t-shirt on or off, if he tried to keep himself occupied with his phone… It was an innate distress that he couldn't get rid of, as simple as that. Prodded to life by the thing he feared the most.

He wasn't sure what made him do it, up there in his room before he left, but he had taken the camera with him. The only proof that their day had started on a good note, immortalising them in that moment in time.

Again, strange how things can change so dramatically. Yuuri thought about it as he tried to find the power button in the dark. Memories of him and Victor coming home to St. Petersburg after Worlds, with two rings each on their ring fingers. How they'd made giant cups of coffee to stay awake just for a little while longer. How a shower had made him sleepy and how all of that, the joy of being newlyweds for the first time in their home, had been smothered by what Victor had said. His world had changed into something he'd never expected. Something he'd never wanted. Just like that.

The camera chimed a little after starting up and he flipped out the LCD-screen. The camera had split their two hour skating session into several files. He decided to skip the first one. As far as he could remember, they weren't doing much skating there anyway. Just him crying out of shock. Out of joy. Victor trying to pull him up from the ice, engage him in something that wasn't even skating.

The second file was better. They were skating close, Victor was leading. Yuuri saw himself smile a little, which came as a surprise to him. He understood why Victor had taken charge, he kept them close to the camera. Making sure that they wouldn't go off-screen. Making sure that everything they did together would be recorded. Something for him to keep.

The third file made him slightly weepy. ' _Let's skate the duet, Yuuri! No lifts, though!'_ It felt surreal seeing them skate what they had thrown together, the night before the Grand Prix Final's exhibition, close to two years ago. Intent on celebrating not only Victor's return to the ice, but what they had decided for themselves. ' _No, I forgot! Was it you who, yes it was! You were the one who did like this, right?'_

The fourth file was endearing, playful. Filled with all of that Victor was when he wasn't in competition mode. When he was actually being himself. That silly, cheeky side of him. That personality that had taken Yuuri by surprise when he first got to know him. The way he treated him like something that he had to tease to get attention from. He was like a little boy, almost. Trying hard to get a laugh out of him, no matter the cost.

The fifth file was the one he actually wanted to see. The one he understood would be important to him when they were on the ice. Afterwards, too. ' _Yuuri, closer! Come closer! There, I think it's fine.' 'What? Why? Like this?' 'Yes, perfect! So, Yuuri! How's your day been?' 'My day? It's been great!' 'Uh-huh? Just great?' 'Yes, it's been_ ㅡ'

That kiss. That wonderful kiss that took him completely by surprise. He'd almost gotten scared first, how silly it may sound, only to be completely relaxed. Almost dissolving when he felt Victor's hand on his jaw, his lips against his own. How he had put his arms around Victor's neck to pull him closer. How they had to stop briefly to catch their breaths, only to resume. Again and again and again. How he'd tasted, felt like against him. How the small sounds Victor made, deep into his throat when their tongues met, instantly affected the rigidity of his knees. He could see them bend, there on the small screen, but he was being kept upright with an arm around the small of his back.

It ended, sadly. With Victor seemingly drowning into his eyes, cupping his face to see them. To really see them. Getting lost in them before reluctantly directing his own elsewhere, before pulling him close against him. Before he addressed the camera with a supernova smile and blue eyes that screamed to the world that they'd found all that seemed to matter to them, or rather, the only thing that ever could matter. Also… the eyes were, no, _he_ was looking very much alive.

' _Yuuri Katsuki! Happy birthday! I love you!'_

He never wanted to forget that voice.


	39. Year One: Winter, part ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little more than a month not working on _With what we have left_. I've slowly started to get back to it, and although I'm not really there yet as far as being able to make regular updates, I'm happy to say that I'm getting there. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this chapter until next time. A couple of more weeks, give or take. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience ♥
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

It was a strange feeling waking up. Like his night had lasted nothing more than a second, with him shutting his eyes for the briefest of moments only to open them up and see sunlight peer through the window. He felt disoriented, the way the sun touched his face made him wonder if he had been thrashing about in his sleep. It didn’t feel like it usually did. It didn’t feel like it used to being home with his family. It didn’t feel like he was being home with him.

Yuuri rolled over to his back, trying to understand why that was. Why it felt different. That’s when he realised that he didn’t recognise the room. It wasn’t his room, it was smaller and emptier.  _ Emptier _ . He pawed around after his glasses, they weren’t where they were supposed to be either. 

He found his glasses eventually, after feeling around on the floor next to his futon mattress. He put them on, still being on his back and looking up at the ceiling. Suddenly, it hit him why he was in another room, why his existence felt smaller and emptier. And just like that, the evening before was over him again with everything his mind chose to remember. It just took up all the space. Overtook everything else, leaving no room for all of that he had experienced that was good.

Although it made him listless, remembering the evening before, his heart ended up in his throat when he thought about today. What could happen. What  _ would  _ happen. They would meet, him and Victor. Of course they would, the inn wasn’t a place where you could hide from someone else. And without a doubt, that would be awkward. Painful. Close to impossible to bear. And then?  _ Victor  _ would insist on talking, probably. Definitely. Yes, he would say all of those things that induced those blackouts, mental and physical within him, even when top-toeing around them.  _ Victor  _ would force him to answer to them, push violently to make them something else. Something unspeakable. Something… real. And then what?

He sat up and pulled his knees close to his chest, trying to comfort himself by having something against himself, something to hold on to.  _ And then what?  _ Was it possible to get back to what they had? To find solace in being close, feeling the smell of him, the touch of him, his heat, his love? 

Because it would be different, all of it would. The door that had been opened showed another reality, a place he didn’t want to acknowledge with feelings and realisations he couldn’t bear. Also, maybe not today, but uncomfortably soon, he would have to use  _ his  _ words for the first time while being with him, those words he so mercilessly used and killed him with the evening before without even hesitating.

Although, there was still a chance. A chance for him to avoid some of that if he hurried. He reached for his phone, feeling the smallest relief when he noticed that it was still quite early. He gave in to all of the things that were encoded within him, what he’d been doing ever since he was a boy when he knew he was about to face something uncomfortable. He would disappear, create distance between himself and his fears and try to sort things out. Alone.

He dressed quickly and folded away the mattress. As he opened the sliding door, he heard the voices of his family in the dining hall. They were talking about something else, something not related to him or to Victor, but he knew all too well that they either had or would talk about him sleeping downstairs. Alone.

It felt incredibly childish sneaking past the entranceway, hoping that he wouldn’t get noticed. Like he knew he’d done something wrong, something he would be reprimanded for if being caught. He had to go upstairs, to get clothes, skates,  _ anything _ . Anything that could give him a valid reason to disappear for a few hours. Soundlessly, he walked up the stairs.

When he had ascended, he froze. He looked at the door he knew he had to open, but didn’t dare to. It felt like he was moving in slow motion, getting closer to the door that had divided them twice the night before. The door that had made it clear to him that he and the person he loved the most were volatile together but fragile alone. It took all his courage to put his hand on the door handle, it took an otherworldly conviction to make him press it down, and an unfathomable resolve to enter his room. But he did, with his heart beating hard in his throat, his pulse resounding like a deafening beat in his ears, his breathing short and staccato-like, making him weak to his knees.

He was asleep. On his back. One arm angled upwards, the other close to himself. The duvet barely covering his hips but not much else.

Yuuri had seen him sleeping in this pose countless times. It could have looked the same, the same as before if only important details hadn’t been missing. Like that hair that his hand would be entangled in. Like that muscular body, the epitome of athleticism. Like that electricity that swirled around him, the electricity that made the world come to a standstill as soon as he appeared. They were gone now. The hair. The sculpted body. He fought the tug inside his chest seeing him like that.

Looking at him, though, he felt it. The electricity was still there. It had always been there, Victor had always affected him in that way. Ever since he first saw him, way back when as a boy. When he’d realised that he was nothing but a small rock in space, orbiting around what had become his centre, his sun. Wanting to get closer and maybe, just maybe, even be able to feel that warmth, bask in that light that was him. But now… he was so different, so vulnerable in a way. Not resembling the sun that much anymore. More like a supernova fighting not to be extinguished.

_ Don’t cry. _

He averted his eyes, and picked up his backpack. It still had both their skates inside. He thought about it, if it was any point in unpacking Victor’s skates but decided against it. It would steal time from him, time he didn’t want to spend in that room. So he left them inside. The two pairs of matching gold bladed skates, giving him the same feeling as when he looked at the gold he was wearing around his finger. Things that weren’t made to be separate, things that couldn’t function if not in pairs. Things that needed each other in order to transcend.

_ Don’t cry. _

He gathered up clothes to train in, a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt, before he headed for the door. His heart stopped when he heard him move behind him. He was too afraid to look, to just cast a glance over his shoulder to see if he was awake or not. Maybe he had shifted in his sleep, maybe heㅡ

“Yuu… ri...”

Was he calling out to him? Talking in his sleep? Fear upon fear started to pile up within him. What would it mean to answer him? What would it mean not to look at him? 

_ Don’t cry. _

It became a fight, a fight between the incapacitating vibrations inside that told him to run, and the indescribable electricity that told him to stay. He put his hand on the door handle, he pressed it down.

He left that room. 

 

**~**~**

 

He hurried down the stairs, hoping that he would be left alone. It was just a couple of steps from the bottom of the stairs to the front door, the odds were technically on his side. He managed to reach the genkan and started to put on his shoes.

“Hey. You’re going out?” His sister’s voice. She had a tendency to show up and ask uncomfortable questions, questions his parents never asked.

“I, uh, I am. I’m going to practise.” He found it hard to use a voice that sounded unaffected, normal despite what he was feeling inside.

“And Victor?”

“He’s sleeping.” He felt relieved that he didn’t have to lie. That part was actually true. Or rather, he needed it to be true.

“Hm…”

He looked at her as he reached for his backpack, ready to head for the door. She felt around in her apron, probably to find a pack of cigarettes. She had that look on her face, that look he knew to be the ‘I see right through you, little brother’-look.

“So, I’m going! See you, Mari. Tell mom and dad, I’ll be out for a few hours.”

“And… Victor?”

“Wh-what?” He hated himself for sounding so insecure, so see-through. He decided to try again, put some confidence behind his words. “What about him?”

“Stop the act, Yuuri. You slept downstairs. Yesterday, you were acting like, I don’t know,  _ an idiot _ at dinner. What’s going on?”

“I’m off to practise now, Mari!”

“So you say.” She put a cigarette between her lips and lit it after struggling with the lighter a couple of times.

“I am. And I-I don’t have to answer to you. You’re my sister.”

She took a drag and exhaled slowly, almost sighing as the smoke tumbled out between her lips. “And as your  _ sister _ , I just want to tell you something. I’ve been worrying about you.”

He blinked, not being able to process what he just heard.

“Or rather,” Mari continued, “I  _ worried _ about you. Ever since he came here, you’ve been doing better. I see what being with him does to you. It does you good.” She tapped her cigarette, catching the ashes in her palm. “Mom said that there’s nothing there. That he’s doing good. So… why aren’t you?”

_ Don’t cry. _

“He wasn’t feeling well! That’s why I slept downstairs!”

“That’s not an answer. At least not to my question.” She looked intently at him before she put the cigarette to her lips again.

“I don’t… I don’t really want to do this right now, okay?!”

“Yuuri? You need to be careful. You need to take care of him in the same way he’s been taking care of you. You need to do him good.”

_ Don’t cry! _

With a cramping sensation in his throat, he stepped towards the front door and opened it. Almost inaudibly, he answered. “I’m going.”

He barely caught his sister’s muffled ‘see you later’ on the other side of the door as his legs started what they’ve been wanting to do since he woke up that morning. He ran.

* * *

 

For some reason, his feet took him elsewhere. He had intended to skate but he wasn’t in charge of himself. His mind simply followed the rules his body dictated, and he felt strangely thankful for that. For being able to disconnect and feel free, for at least that little while. 

If someone wanted to look for him, they knew where to start. That was why he never got to the rink at Ice Castle. He found himself outside Minako’s ballet studio instead, pondering if he should enter or not. He decided to take up his phone. He didn’t want to force himself on anyone by just showing up, but a text message would be okay.

 

**To: Minako-sensei**

Can I come today?

 

The reply took a bit longer than he’d expected, making himself slightly nervous that he indeed had to go back. Either to Ice Castle or… back home. The thought of it made him uncomfortable. Reading the reply, he exhaled deeply.

 

**From: Minako-sensei**

Hi Yuuri! I didn’t know you were home! It’s okay for you to come if you can be here in half an hour! I’m going out soon.

 

He put the phone back in his pocket and opened the door, calling out almost immediately.

“I’m coming in. Minako? It’s me!”

“Wow, aren’t you quick,” Minako’s voice sounded from further in. “Were you just outside?”

“Yeah, I was.” He started to take off his shoes. In a way, he felt relieved over the fact that she was leaving the studio. Then, he would have it all to himself, without anyone really knowing where he was. He felt calmed by that realisation.

He heard her steps come closer, through the dance hall, down the corridor to the left.

“Yuuri! Congratulations on making it to the Grand Prix Final!” Her arms were quick to embrace him, and just as quick to let him go. “Your mother said you weren’t coming to Hasetsu, it’s such a lovely surprise to see you.”

“I-I wasn’t but Victor, he… surprised me. For my birthday.”

_ Don’t cry. _

Minako smiled, briefly, before her face dressed itself in a much more serious look.

“I think it’s fantastic that you’ve made it to the final this year. This season must have been hard for you.” She paused and pushed her hair back behind her ears. “How are you?”

He decided to give a last performance, a final encore of selling that lie to someone he cared about. He knew that if he had to do it one more time after telling Minako, he would fail. Succumb to all of that he’s been pushing down, locking away, trying to forget about.

“I’m fine!” He smiled, desperately trying to strengthen the meaning of his words.

“Good,” Minako said without hesitation. “I heard that Victor’s better too. I’m glad. Anyway,” she said, walking towards the front desk and leaning over it to grab something, “here are the keys. Leave them with your mom and I’ll get them in a day or so. You remember how to lock up?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Stay as long as you like.” She took her coat off a hanger and put it on, pulling her hair out from underneath the collar before she buttoned it. “Best of luck in the final, Yuuri.”

“Yeah… Th-thanks.”

_ Don’t cry. _

“See you. Remember the keys?”

“Yes… Take care.”

As soon as the door closed behind Minako, he went over and locked it. The silence was pressing, almost hurting his ears and leaving a strange and sticky feeling within him. Trying to shake it off, he went to change his clothes. Being quick to pull out his sweatpants and top, not wanting to see the skates huddled up together in his backpack.

_ I’ll have to be barefoot. That’s okay. _

He walked out, taking the familiar few steps out to the dance hall.

_ Don’t cry. _

He went over to the sound system and plugged in his phone, thinking about what music to choose. What to dance. Smartest thing would have been to practice the free skate, a little voice told him, but he scrolled past that song in his playlist. He scrolled past his song for the short program too. Scrolled past season’s exhibition song at Worlds. Scrolled past all those familiar pieces he had danced ballet to.

His thumb hovered over the track. He knew that it had been missing yesterday. Yesterday when they’d… When Victor and he was… He pressed play, put down his phone and entered the floor. Seeing himself in the mirror, waiting for the music to start pulled him right back. Right back to what he’d felt when he had skated the routine he’d been practising alone, for his own enjoyment, for the first time in front of someone else. The event that started all of it, the event that had led Victor to him. His unwitting reply to Victor’s lamenting loneliness.

The music started. He knew the movements in the same way he knew how to breathe. 

_ Raise your head. Prepare to pivot, raise your right hand as you do. Closer, bring it closer to your face. Then, down, close to your chest. Extend it. Pull it close, cross both arms. Extend your left arm. Down, down on your left knee. Up again. Feel the music, feel it through your arms. Prepare for the quadruple Lutz. _

Instead of doing the Lutz, he leapt through the air in a grand jeté. Upon landing, he felt something shift as he started to lose focus. He tried to concentrate, tried to feel the music, the movements. Tried to make them unite inside him. He started to panic. It didn’t feel like it used to, something was missing. 

He struggled, fought to keep up with the routine as the music told him that the quadruple flip was a few seconds away. And then, he realised what was missing. What was lost to him, totally out of his reach.

_ Victor! I can’t feel you inside me anymore! I’m losing you! I really am losing you! _

He missed the cue for the flip, feeling his breathing intensify as he realised this. Feeling his heart beat irregularly, feeling his arms go numb. Feeling that stinging sensation behind his eyelids. He caught a glance of himself in the mirrors on the wall of the far side of the room as his knees buckled. Hitting the floor didn’t hurt, it was as if he was detached. Like his existence had become muffled, dull and smothered. But inside, the pain raged on. Teared at him like he was nothing but a piece of flesh, tossed aside for Anxiety, Grief and Despair to feed on.

He had to feel grounded, feel like he wasn’t dissolving into a million pieces that wouldn’t be able to get put back together. He sunk down on the floor, feeling the cool surface against his cheek as he tried to breathe. He was slipping, he knew that much, and as the crescendo in the speakers died out, he couldn’t contain it anymore.

It started with tears, tears that had mercilessly been trying to break the divide. Tears that meant so much more than a reaction to yesterday. They were a reaction to to everything, everything that had been and everything that was to come. 

It continued with sobs. Sobs that made him open up, tap in to the devastation they brought with them. With every convulsion he shattered, feeling himself lose more and more in the process. Lose more of his composure, more of himself. The sobs had to step back, make way for whimpers that exploded into wails. He couldn’t breathe. Even though he opened his mouth to draw breath, his body did its best to deny him by pressing the air out of him. Pressing it out with cramps fueled by desolation, making him hurt. Making him faint.

It climaxed with words. Words that he didn’t want to utter, words he knew would make everything real. The pain, the sadness, the devastating anguish. He rolled over to his back, put his hands over his mouth. He wanted them to stay inside, they had to.

Again, his body took charge. Made itself rise above his mind, made itself the master of the shared dominion that was him. This time, he fought it. He didn’t want to hear those words come out of him, he wanted his mind to take control, to make himself collected.

His voice sounded muffled, distorted by his hands covering his mouth. “I love you. I love you. I love you! Victor, I love you!”  _ Please, don’t! Don’t say anything else! Make it stop, get in control! _

“I need you! I need you! Victor, please, please stay! Please stay with me!”  _ No! No, no, no, no, no! Help me, I don’t want to hear this! I don’t want to do this! I can’t say _ ㅡ

“DON’T DIE! I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE! VICTOR! PLEASE, DON’T LEAVE ME!”

 

**~**~**

 

He heard his own voice, raw and and strident. Without hindrance, it filled up the room, not having to fight against fingers and palms trying to keep them inside. His voice died out, but even though it became quiet, the words were still there. Vibrating in the air, becoming an entity he cowered under. 

He wondered if he was alive. If being alive was supposed to feel like that. He couldn’t even dress those feelings into words, nor could he understand them. It was as if he was thrown into a whirlpool that dragged him under, made him feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made him go from hopelessness to being numb, from desperation to apathy, from hurting to detaching. He listlessly followed the changes within himself, not being able to do anything to stop it from starting anew in a seemingly endless loop. Feeling everything, nothing, everything, nothing. 

Abused, that was a good word. That was exactly how he felt. Abused by life itself and, more disturbingly, by himself. Why did he have to work against himself, he thought. Why did he had to torture himself, push himself further down into the abyss that his life had become. Why did he have to continue what Victor had started the night before?

It was hard to pinpoint time, being nothing but a broken shard on the cold dancefloor, deprived of anything resembling a will to live. To him, being there on the floor was just as good as anything else, probably easier than anything else too. He could remain there until the end of time, he figured. Just be on his back, become completely devoid of thoughts and feelings, not having to deal with anything than looking straight up into nothing. But as the quaking inside slowly faded away, as he managed to breathe without vocalising his distress, as his mind conquered the supremacy that had been lost to him when he’d needed it the most, he felt another kind of pain. The pain not attributed to himself, but to the one he loved the most. The kind of pain he could only fantasise about understanding.

_ How do you feel, Victor? You can’t bear it either, can you? What are we going to do? What can we do? What… what can  _ I  _ do? _

He sniffed a little as the thought passed through him, found a place inside him where it wanted to burrow, to settle. He understood that they were both hurting, that they were both in need of being able to rest and be carried a little while but within him, he knew he couldn’t. He could barely push himself through everyday life, how would he be able to reach beyond that? Beyond himself? How could he ever carry someone else when he could barely stand?

His lower lip quivered as he sat up, feeling nauseous and exhausted by his emotional discharge. There was no doubt about it, he really was a bother. To himself, to his family. To Victor. 

_ Victor.  _

How could he ever face him? How he possibly look at him with this new emotional realisation? How could he ever get close to him again without being mauled by all of that he now knew he carried inside? And what would Victor think? About his actions? About him?  _ About them? _

Bracing himself, he got up to a sitting position before he managed to stagger onto his feet. The nausea had him in a tight grip, making him walk slowly towards the sound system. He unplugged his phone and felt a strange ambivalence when he noticed that hours had passed. He concluded that the must have fallen asleep on the floor out of sheer exhaustion. There wasn’t a possibility that he’d been awake without moving, staring out into thin air for hours. 

He swiped to unlock the phone, noticing several missed calls. All from Victor. He felt his heart clench. What if he was angry with him? What if he was preparing to continue from yesterday and had hoped to do so over the phone? What if he decided that he have had enough? Of  _ him _ ? Of  _ them _ ?

As he was drying his eyes with his sleeve, a text message made his phone vibrate in the palm of his hand. It was from him. From Victor. Although he felt apprehensive, his mind racing with fantasies about what that text message would actually say, he decided to open it. Holding his breath, he pressed the message app.

 

**From: Vict♥r**

I love you  ♥

 

With a hand covering his mouth, he realised that he’d never felt so afraid.


	40. Year One: Winter, part eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know what I said about updating regularly and on a schedule. I'm not there yet, but this chapter kind of wanted to be published, so I listened. Until next time <3
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Victor wasn't expecting a reply. He knew Yuuri all too well to even hope for one under these circumstances, but that didn't stop him. From wanting one and compulsively checking his phone in the process. Heatedly wishing for Yuuri's name to appear on the screen with every press of the power button, childishly coming up with even more childish snippets of that coveted text message. The one that teased him with its absence. He was hoping to read something like; ' _I love you too, I love you so much!'_. Or maybe; ' _I'm on my way home, come and meet me!'_ , or even better; ' _Let's go upstairs as soon as I get home, I want to do… everything.'_

With a sigh, he pushed his phone away, away on the table and from himself. He understood that deep down inside, he was hoping for something else to come out of that still non-existent reply. Something that wouldn't be as childishly thought up and coloured by his love and desire for him. He realised he wished for something else, something real. Something true. Something that could continue what yesterday had started. How much he loved hearing endearing words and loving promises, needing them even, none of those things would matter if the two sentences he'd been waiting for could finally be either heard, read or felt against his skin. ' _Victor, I'm ready. We need to talk'._

But it was painfully obvious that those words forming those two sentences were out of reach. Unattainable. Exactly in the same way as Yuuri was.  _Oh, Yuuri…_

He shifted slightly, wincing due to the ache in his back and legs. It was worth it. The pain, the slight immobility. He hadn't seen Yuuri so relaxed and so in the moment for such a long time as when they skated together. Being nothing but there with him, not thinking about anything else than what they were when being together. The moment they shared, it had been magical. He wanted more of that together with him, he needed more of that with him. The memories of leading Yuuri across the ice, having him close, reconnecting with him in a way that he thought to be impossible… oh, and the  _kiss_!  _That kiss_  that made him feel like everything else was obsolete,  _that kiss_  he could feed off of,  _that kiss_  that made him feel like he had to catch his breath, still.  _That kiss_  that made him give in to an indescribable high, one he never wanted to come down from.

But, without a warning, he sensed the warm feeling in his chest dissipate. Slowly, it vanished with him thinking about what had transpired between them, thinking about how quickly it had turned into something else. Thinking of how he'd lost his footing, his composure, his patience. Thinking about how frustrated he felt. How cast aside he felt. How angry he felt. But at the same time… how good it had felt. How justified it had been.

Yes, his reaction, it wasn't uncalled for. Yuuri had been acting in a way that affected not just the two of them, but also his family in a way that was unfair. At least to them, still being left in the dark.

Trying to retrace his steps, trying to recall what made him say the things he did, made him realise that Yuuri's behaviour had somehow found its way under his skin. First, Yuuri had asked him a question, a valid one but one he had proved himself not being emotionally prepared to hear the answer to. Then Yuuri had retreated into himself, and that in turn had had acted like a catalyst. It woke something that had been slumbering inside, something that became furious in the process when being called out into the light.

"Victor, Yuuri home soon. He go practise." Mari's voice interrupted him. It was cheery as she passed him by with a bucket and a rag, sounding like she was smoothing things over for some reason.

He realised he must have frowned, sitting there on the floor in the dining hall. He looked up at her and gave her a smile and a small nod, suddenly feeling like there was something he didn't know. Something he'd missed. As Mari walked away, he started to look for patterns, things that could explain why she had felt the need to tell him just that.

He settled on two possible explanations, the first one being that he'd told his family on his own, but he was quick to disregard that idea. It felt like it always did at the Katsuki family inn, nothing was out of the ordinary. Yuuri's family would have been affected by such a reveal. The second explanation was that his family, or at least Mari, might have felt the need to make excuses for him. Based on the way Yuuri acted, being together with him and on his own.  _The walls are closing in, huh…_

The small growl inside made himself aware that he was not done thinking about Yuuri and yesterday. The anger was still there, although it was continuously morphing into something that reminded him of sadness, regret and guilt, and back again. He quickly found that little string that led back to the ball of annoyance, immediately picking up where he'd left off.

Yuuri had retreated within himself, and that had been extremely provoking. Firing him up, making him close to telling him off.  _But why?_  He remembered that it had been a feeling that just came and went within a fraction of a second, and then it hit him.  _It's unfair. It's so fucking unfair! And it's you who's doing this to me! You aren't there for me! I'm comforting you! I'm carrying you! When will you see me, when will you meet me?!_

Remembering how he consoled him, Victor felt hot. Like his blood was set aflame, reacting to all of that he was constantly giving but never receiving. He wanted to make Yuuri see that, he realised. He wanted to make Yuuri understand that he needed to feel like he had him, that he would catch him if he should shatter, fall or feel the need to hold on to something. He wanted him to be  _it_ , his support, his shelter, his comfort. His better half. But he wasn't it. Not when he really needed him to.

Thinking about how Yuuri had clambered on to him after he'd answered him, holding on like his life depended on it… The symbolism was so blatant, so apparent. The meaning of his actions so vivid.  _He can't let me go. He just can't._  He stifled a sob by closing his eyes and holding his breath. And with that, the anger gave way. Gave in to the sadness, the regret and the guilt.

He started to think about losing him, losing the life they had together. How stupid he'd been to raise his voice at him, to let him know what he felt when he was at his worst, to tell him to let him go. How impossible it would be to make him trust again. He'd hurt him, in ways uncountable and that had culminated with Yuuri leaving his side, trying to find a way to endure the loss of what he should have been able to provide.

He stood up, braced himself a little against the table as his muscles made him aware of their opinion.  _Maybe… this has nothing to do with Yuuri. Maybe_ I'm  _the one who_ _ㅡ_

 

**~**~**

 

Life has a way of giving you small cues. Hints of what she wants you to be aware of, pay attention to. Where she wants you to go. Even though Life can seem like a cruel mistress, one that plots and is fickle by nature, especially when being together with Time, she's kind. Nurturing. At times, even loving. One just has to stop and really listen to what she's trying to say.

Seeing him across the room, out in the hallway with eyes directed at the floor, his black hair wet and dripping due to the snow outside, trying his best to be invisible, made Victor disregard that instantly. The small hints, the cues. He should have given him more space, he should have paced himself. Made Yuuri come to him instead. But when he saw him, he became disconnected. He just wanted to fill the void inside, the one created by harsh words, heated decisions and an anger-panic duality. He hurried up to him, wanting to be soothed, needing all of that to be undone but at the same time… wanting to finish yesterday's altercation, needing Yuuri to realise all of the things he denied him.

"You've been out for quite some time," Victor started, a voice low to keep it private, just between them. Watching intently as Yuuri took off his coat and his shoes. "Did you skate?"

Just a small shake of the head, nothing else, before he reached for his backpack and stepped off the genkan. Trying to go around him.

Victor stepped to his left, blocking the way. Trying to get to see what was going on inside. Needing to see behind those brown eyes, if only for a second. "Yuuri, why?"

Eyes firmly attached to the floor, a tense stance that, again, would have given Victor all the information he needed but sadly, refused to pay attention to. It was apparent that Yuuri was uncomfortable, wanting Victor to step back and give him space but still not voicing his opinion on the matter. But when you're desperate, you lose a lot of things. Not only composure, but also perception. The way to see things for what they are.

"I… You could have answered. My calls, my message. Why didn't you?" He inhaled slowly, tried his best not to let what was simmering inside reach the surface. He was afraid what would happen if it did. "Honey… Are you angry with me?"

Dark eyes met his, a contact as fleeting as mist on skin, an exhale against lips, a skimming touch. But inevitably saying a thousand words, conveying a thousand thoughts, transferring a thousand emotions in that transient second. That was enough to make Victor feel it. That crudely put-together mess of conflicting emotions that had been tormenting him since the night before.

"Yuuri, I… I missed you last night!" His voice was louder now, coloured by that distress. "I wanted you to stay, I wanted you next to me. I want you to, no, I  _need_ you to _ㅡ_ "

He was pushed to the side. Not forcefully, gently rather, by a hand that felt weary. One that told him 'please, not now', if he had only listened. But that panic was spilling into the realm where fury reigned, getting caught up and ensnared in its vehemence. Becoming intense, viscous. Slowly seeping in, taking over.

"You don't get to walk away from me, not again! You hear?!" He grabbed him by the arm, pulled him back, kept him in place with hands on his shoulders. "I couldn't sleep last night, all I could think of was you! How you walked away, even though I asked you not to! Stay!"

Tunnel vision, a loud voice, firm hands. Accelerated breathing, words piling up and threatening to do harm if not set free. He shook him, just the one time. Not forcefully, at least not to him. He wanted a reaction, something.  _Anything._  Anything that could make him feel seen, make him feel alive. Why was he denying him that?

"Say something! Yuuri!"

He didn't notice the surprised gasp pressed out of Yuuri's body by his hands. Nor the members of the family, ending what they were doing, silently standing in order to try and understand, assess and intervene if need be. He didn't notice them, how they came closer, how a hand placed itself on his shoulder. Asking him to calm himself, without words. Asking him to come back, albeit silently. He didn't notice the tone in their voices when they broke the barrier between observing and reacting, firmly telling him to stop, softly asking him let go. He was gone, his eyes were pinned on eyes he wanted to get in contact with, a mouth he wanted to speak, ears he wanted to hear what was not being said.

"Yuuri! You're hurting me! Say something! Do something! Wh-why don't you fucking do something?!"

"It hurts. Let go."

"What?!"

"I said, it hurts. Victor, it hurts. Let go of me." His voice was low, but his eyes were harsh. They were on his now, and just like that, they made him do what the almost inaudible voice asked him to.

It was like a spell vanished, letting go of him. Like he was waking up from a slumber, a state where he had no control. When the heat within him slowly dispersed, it came to him. The realisation of his actions, his words. But not what he actually meant, what he had actually feared by doing what he did and saying what he said. That came when he saw Yuuri turn around and walk away, closing a sliding door behind him with not so much as a word or a look in his direction.

_I need you to stay and never leave._

 

**~**~**

 

It did something to them, that exchange. Those words being spoken and the ones that remained unsaid. This time, the both of them chose to keep their distance. Unbeknownst to each other, they wanted to get close, terminate the space between them and shatter the divide. But neither of them dared, coming to the conclusion that another rejection would be too much. Knowing that it would be devastating to repeat what had transpired between them, knowing that it would do something to them that would be irreparable. So, they stayed away. Stayed out of sight, but not out of mind.

To Victor, it felt like he had lost something. Although he knew that what he needed, what he desperately yearned for, was nothing but a staircase and a few steps away, he couldn't go and claim it. Because the feeling reminded him of before. Before all of this. Before Yuuri.

He'd spent twenty years trying to find  _something_ , that something being undefined and elusive. Staying out of his line of sight, but still teasing him with its presence. Again, it had been Life telling him things, wanting him to listen. But he didn't. He kept pushing on, chasing other things, things he thought he was lacking. Appreciation, admiration, adoration. Given to him by others from afar, people he couldn't connect with. But still seeking that fix, what he thought could fill him up and make the void less gaping. Less harrowing. But only so briefly, before he had to have his fill. Again and again.

It wasn't until he got tired of pushing, trying to better himself, trying to remain on top that he was susceptible. Ready to take in a little bit of what was going on around him, ready to listen. And when he did, when he finally did close to three years ago, Life was there. Presenting him with the greatest gift. He'd met  _him_ , what he knew that was missing as soon as he laid eyes on him.  _Love_ , personified.

Now that he'd felt it, experienced it, he sensed a panic thinking about something that had never crossed his mind before. Not until today. He could actually lose it. He could lose love and then, life would cease to matter. Revert back to what it was before but now, it would be even more empty, even more meaningless. He couldn't have that. If it was to happen then… yes, he would definitely end it. The few things that remained, the few things that made up what now was his life. After all, the treatments he'd gone through was just as much, or, maybe more for Yuuri's sake than his own. He wanted to feel like all of that pain, all those horrifying months hadn't been in vain. And they would be if he was to lose him.

He looked at his phone, sighing when he noticed the time. The wee hours of the morning were meant for sleeping but how could he? There was just no way he could reach that state of relaxation needed in order to drift off into that oblivion. He was missing something, the other piece that was him and knowing that made it impossible to find that inner peace.

For some reason, despite the chaos that had him tethered, he felt a pull. A pull that made him break his bonds. A pull that told him to get off the floor, put on a pair of sweatpants and go out of the room, out into the darkness. He felt it even stronger when he stood in the hallway, resisting wasn't even up for debate, so he snuck down the stairs and found himself outside a small room with a sliding door. Thinking about what to do, but being afraid of the consequences.

 

**To: Yuu~ri!**

Are you awake?

 

Through the paper, he could see a faint glow. The phone within reacting with his. Carrying a message through the thin partition, ending up where he couldn't tread, doing what he couldn't do. It looked like it as moving, the glow within, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

When he saw the screen of his phone light up, his heart immediately started to race. Life finds a way. If you listen.

 

**From: Yuu~ri!**

Yes.

 

**To: Yuu~ri!**

Can I come in?

 

The reply never came. Instead he saw him, his shadow coming closer on the other side until it was next to him. But still, on the other side. He found it hard to understand how something so thin could be so menacing, so excluding. So successful at keeping them apart.

"Yuuri," he whispered. "Can I come in?"

He saw him shake his head, but he remained silent.

"Okay. It's okay. I… I don't know what to say." He sighed. "I want to see you."

They stood silent for a while. Being on opposite sides of that sliding door. Thinking about what they wanted, but not knowing how to make it happen without making it difficult. Not knowing how to make it successful.

"So… I couldn't sleep last night. I just thought about you. You and me. How I want you, how I need you. Even more now than ever before. Yuuri? You know I love you, right?"

The silence, the immobility on the other side made his heart clench. How he would have loved to receive something from him now, something that would make him feel a bit less worried. Maybe even appreciated.

He decided to steel himself. It was apparent that this, whatever  _this_  was, was going to be a monologue. With that notion, he took an apprehensive step. Trying his best to mend, trying his best to soothe. "I'm not easy to live with, I know that. But I feel… yeah, I feel frustrated now, you know? I need to say this one way or the other, please don't take it the wrong way, love. Okay?"

He thought he saw a nod, making him confident enough to continue. So he did, with his heart racing in his chest, although he was holding his breath.

"I can't take this, Yuuri. This game. This walking on eggshells-thing. You telling me 'no' and how I… yeah, how I just submit to you. I need us to stop this. I don't know what will happen if we don't. If we can't, and I would… yes, I would rather die than find out. I know it's hard but I want you to hear this; Our time, no,  _my_ time is limited. That's a fact. We don't know for how long I'm…" He had to pause, bite his cheek a bit in order to keep it together. He hated that they were having a conversation like that, with him having to use words that were so raw. Words he knew hurt not only Yuuri, but himself. They were surreal. Unfair.  _Unfair. Unfair!_

He let out a small exhale, feeling his throat narrowing. Feeling a quaking sensation inside, born from his need to shatter, the need to just fall apart in front of him. He wanted to feel small, he realised. He wanted to cry too. Not only cry, but lament. He wanted to get it all out, run himself dry without having to think about someone else. At the same time, he wanted someone to be there when he did. He wanted it to be  _him._

"I'm tired, love. Tired and upset. And not only that, I'm angry too. I'm so very angry, with a lot of things." His fingers skimmed over a part of the lattice, tracing the pattern repeatedly. "Sometimes, I'm angry with you too."

The quietude grew thick between them, the both of them tasting the words that had just been spoken. Victor tried to listen, tried to be perceptive enough to catch anything that would give him a clue to what was happening on the other side of that border, tauntingly paper thin. He thought about how to continue, what to say. If anything more needed to be said. If there actually was anything else left to say. But there always is. Once gates are opened, things pass through.

"It feels like a race, Yuuri," he finally continued. "A race where we're not going in the same direction. Like we're off chasing different finish lines. I know what and where my line is, but I would like to know about yours. I would love it if you told me. If you opened up to me."

He shifted a little, redistributed his weight to stand comfortably. He couldn't free himself from his unrest, not by shifting and not by talking. He needed to see him, Love personified, on the other side of that sliding door.

"Don't you trust me? Don't you trust me, honey? What's going on inside you, hm? Do we have to do this? Act like this? You know, I… when I'm angry, I'm not really angry with you. I'm more angry with what this, all of this, is making you do. You are afraid, I know. You hurt, I know that. You want it to be the way it was, and I do too. But… there's nothing we can do about it. We can't."

He shuddered, it was cold in the hallway. Especially when being half naked. Especially when hearing himself say things that felt alien to him. Things that his mind strangely enough couldn't really process.

"I need you, Yuuri. I need you to stay close to me. I need you to love me. I need you to be strong for me because I…"  _Shit. Don't. Not in front of him. Not yet._ "...because I don't think I'll be able to carry you forever."

With a sigh, Victor took his eyes off the shadow barely visible on the other side before he turned around and headed towards the stairs. Feeling defeated, invisible and unloved. Although… if Victor had been listening to what Life had told him before, to pace himself and let Love come to him instead of him acting only on feeling, he would have noticed the small rekindling action. The action that had the sole purpose of letting Victor know that he was welcomed in. That he was needed. That he was loved.

The trembling fingers that touched the paper-thin obstruction ended up retreating when it became apparent that there was no one there to meet them. When steps grew faint and disappeared on the other side. Instead of being brave, instead of opening that door, they resigned. Ending up in black hair instead, wishing that they had typed 'yes' in the first place.


	41. Year One: Winter, part twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm going to try to update once, maybe twice a week from now on. Hopefully without any breaks. Yuuri and Victor's journey is slowly coming to a close, hope all of us will be prepared once that happens. Hell, I hope they will be too...
> 
> Also, thank you so much for reading and commenting up until now. It will be heartbreaking from now on. But I guess you kind of knew that already.
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated.

It felt like a punishment. Like something greater, something transcending everything else, had decided to make him atone. But why, and more importantly, for what? When Victor came out of another short and dreamless sleep, for the second time in just as many days, he lay still with his eyes closed. Trying to stay calm, trying to understand.

To him, it was bewildering. How the last couple of days had turned out to be something he couldn't have foreseen, something with consequences he couldn't possibly have prepared for. How the intention of him and Yuuri coming to Hasetsu in order to get closer, to overcome at least some of the things dividing them, had proven itself to do the exact opposite. For the second time in just as many days, they slept on separate floors, in separate rooms. Divided by things more complicated than the logistics of a Japanese inn.

Victor tried hard to fight the strange feeling that washed over him, impairing him with its ruthlessness. There was something new to that feeling, something very different from the aggravation and frustration that somehow still lingered inside him from the days that had passed. It was pushing him to walk the borders of a place he knew he would, no, needed to fight to stay away from. At all costs.

_I'm losing control._

Letting that sink in, the fact that walls seemed to be closing in, the fact that no matter what action he decided to take made a negative consequence play itself out almost immediately, the fact that his life seemingly fought his need for it to contain itself, made the perturbed feeling grow. He instantly opened his eyes, hoping that allowing them focus on something,  _anything_ , would make the thoughts diverge.

He tried to focus on the light passing through the window, tried to count the weave in the tatami floor, tried to focus on the pattern of his shirt crumpled on the floor. He tried to make that feeling disappear, the sticky claustrophobic tension, the smothering anxiousness, but felt it creep up on him instead. Seep into him, through every opening it possibly could find and overpower him. He wasn't used to feeling things crumble at his touch, wasn't used to things bend around him instead of following him, wasn't used to face repercussions. He'd always been himself, acting on whims without a second thought and that had served him well. Until it began, that new reality of his, that now eight month old nightmare that just kept on ravaging not only him, but what he held dear.

In a brief moment of hopelessness, he realised that he actually wanted to recompense, no matter the cost. For everything he'd ever done to others, for all of the things that remained undone. For everything he'd done to himself, making him lose everything reminding of a normal childhood, a normal adolescence, a normal young adulthood. For all of the things he'd taken for granted, except for letting people close, except for actually living and loving.

It felt excruciating, realising that he'd started to live and love too late in life, and just like that, it hit him.  _That_ was what he wanted to recompense, if he ever could. That and nothing else.

If he was to be given a second chance, a rebirth, a way to walk through purgatory unscathed, he would let his guard down. He would be quick to open up to all of that he'd just started to experience, embrace the warmth that came with the blessed intimacy of being close to someone else. He would look beyond the need of pleasing the masses and getting a fleeting appreciation in return. He would slow himself down and seek something else, something simpler and more lasting. Something that would fill the void inside, wholeheartedly, without any hesitation or questions. Just by simply being there, breathing on him and sharing space. And if, just if, there was a possibility to actually get that chance, he needed it to be together with  _him._ With Yuuri.

The sense of hopelessness waned, just as quickly as it made itself known. Even though he felt remnants of fragility and distress, the thought of the need he had for his husband failed to soothe him. Surprisingly enough.

"Not another day like this, not another night," he said, thinking out loud as he started to prepare himself to leave the warmth underneath the duvet.

He wondered how he would be able to make it so. How he could possibly dare to bare himself, how to make Yuuri understand that they had to make a decision. A choice that would define their relationship from now and onwards. It felt frightening, standing at the metaphorical crossroad. He knew what way he wanted to take but he was tired he realised. Tired of pushing, trying to steer, taking the lead.

What would happen if he just left the driver's seat, handed the steering wheel over to Yuuri and waited? Although it made his eyes sting, the thought appeared, dug in and started to fester. Uninvited and loathed, but nevertheless true. If the last couple of days had proven anything, Victor understood that letting their relationship and its mending rest on Yuuri's shoulders would make them end up with nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Victor dressed himself, putting on sweats and a t-shirt. Feeling ashamed of himself for thinking the way he did about him. About the man he'd chosen to be his. He wanted them to stay the same, or at least as close to resembling their old selves before his illness had taken them hostage. But as hard as it was to admit and maybe even accept, Yuuri had proven himself incapable of doing the things Victor was expecting him to. Incapable of taking care of not only himself but them, staying in the moment and thinking beyond himself. Incapable ofㅡ

_Incapable of making me trust you._

He felt a chill as he exited the room, heading down the hallway. Taking the few steps needed before standing on top of the stairs. He kept on wondering what would happen, going downstairs, breaking that invisible divide. It could get worse, and that was what he was expecting. But right then and there, standing on billowy legs with his heart in his throat, he made a decision. Being unwilling to think about the consequences.

 

**~**~**

 

As soon as Victor came down the stairs, he headed straight for where Yuuri had been sleeping. Or hiding, rather.

"Yuuri, I'm coming in."

He opened the sliding door before finishing the sentence and was greeted with nothing but an empty room. Everything was neatly put away, like Yuuri had never been there in the first place.

Walking out of the room, his mind started to race. He felt strangely provoked by not finding Yuuri there, instantly thinking of reasons why.  _What the hell is he doing? Running away? Avoiding me? Provoking me?_

He slid the door closed, feeling dazed. Again, life had proven him that he was nothing by a pawn in a game he couldn't win, constantly making counter moves to keep him in his place. It had decided to keep him and Yuuri apart, he figured, but that was the one thing he would never accept. The one thing he would fight for, the one thing he would push himself to change. No matter how exhausted he would be, no matter how hopeless things would feel.

The soft noise from the kitchen made him seek it out in order to get more clues. Hiroko was preparing breakfast, it looked like. He couldn't make out her expression when they made eye contact. It wasn't as open as before. Still warm and motherly, but slightly more guarded.

"Good morning. Hiroko, where's Yuuri?" He felt guilty seeing her. Guilty for making her redefine her way of thinking of him. Apparently, yesterday had been cruel in more ways than he had expected it to.

" _Yuuri? He's in the onsen. Wait for him to come out, Vicchan."_

He thought he heard 'onsen', giving Hiroko a little nod as he turned around. One last effort, he thought. One last try to make amends. Maybe, that was what his desire to atone came from. Not to hope for things that would never be, but to restore what was there. Right in front of him.

He left the kitchen and headed for the entrance to the onsen. First, he came through the dressing room where he stripped down and folded his clothes. He picked out two towels, one for washing himself with and one for covering up. Then, the washing area where felt his pulse accelerate, throbbing on the sides of his neck, in his temples.

_Not here. He's already out there._

Realising that Yuuri was within reach, just a door away, made Victor forget about the customs. Instead of taking a small stool to sit on, instead of washing himself, something he'd been both meticulously told and shown numerous times how to do, he burst through the door. His eyes searching for dark hair, dark eyes and a body he desired. Not only to pull close, but to actually feel against his own.

He found him. Seeing Yuuri flinch, being submerged up to his shoulders in the onsen, made a smile appear on Victor's lips. Just briefly. It was as if he relived the first time they met, from a different perspective. How fitting it was in a way. How fitting that he had come out to search for him anew, with a not so different agenda in mind. He wanted to catch him. Make him his. Make him bound to him in every meaning of the word.

In silence, they observed each other. Feeling the eyes of the other dig themselves in, look straight through. Through distress, hurt, anger, skin, flesh and blood and ending up fixed on nothing but the naked core. The innermost part of the both of them, the part that was continuously calling out. The part yearning for the other, desiring the other. Needing the other in the same way a heart needs a beat, lungs need a breath, a soul needs to be touched.

In that moment, there was hope. A small flicker of hope that wanted to grow, fed by the understanding that none of them wanted to live on separate sides of an abyss. And yet, the uncertainty was there. The confusion as to why they were looking at each other from afar. That's what came through, that was what ended up being voiced when they finally had access to each other.

"I'm almost, no, I-I'm done now so… I'll leave you alone, you can get in. Don't stand there like that. In the cold." Yuuri started to shift, putting his hands on the ledge behind him to push himself up and out of the onsen.

"Stay. Okay?"  _You're not getting away. Not again, Yuuri._ "I can sit over here if you want, but I need you to stay."

Victor inched closer to the ledge, noticing how Yuuri averted his eyes as he got in. Victor stayed true to his word and kept his distance, feeling a whisper of relief inside when Yuuri remained where he was. Although, it took all the self control he could muster not to walk over to him, to erase the distance between them. Being opposite him in the onsen was like being forced apart by the sea, unnatural, menacing. Not for them. They've done that once, unknowingly, before being coach and student and to Victor, that one time was enough.

"Why, Yuuri?" Victor hated that he sounded pleading, desperate. The attachment only growing stronger with every heartbeat, every ticking second. Growing because of him not feeling acknowledged, loved or seen.

As often happens when insecurities come to take charge, take the lead, things that are being pushed down and locked away tend to find another way out of their confinement. Something that would never happen otherwise. "Why are we doing this? Why won't you look at me, why can't we just… Am I that disgusting to you?"

"Don't you  _ever_ say that." A harsh voice, but brown eyes still not meeting his even though they finally had the opportunity to do so.

"What is it then? What have I done to you that makes you think I should be treated this way? Not responding, not looking at me, not letting me touch you? Running away from me? Am I such a bad person, Yuuri?"

Yuuri was still not meeting his gaze, intent on making patterns and small waves as his hands skimmed the surface of the water instead of reaching out, beckoning Victor to get closer. In a low voice, he answered. "You're… you're not a bad person. At all."

"So… if I'm not a bad person or too disgusting for you to look at, then why? Why are we doing this? Huh, love?"

There was a moment of silence before Yuuri answered the question, with a voice trying not to crack. "I'm afraid."

"Why?"

Victor saw Yuuri frown. There was something he wanted to say, but something was holding him back. The question, made up by one of the most important words Victor knew, had apparently gotten to him.

"What do you mean 'why'," Yuuri said in a voice almost too low to hear, still caressing the surface of the water.

"I'm asking you. Why are you afraid?"

It was subtle, how Yuuri reacted to the question. How he clenched his teeth, how he started to blink. How fingers found his lips before a hand felt compelled to cover his mouth. How everything about him implored Victor not to push, not to prod anymore.

Seeing that reaction, Victor unconsciously braced himself. He knew that there wasn't a sure way of telling how he would react to Yuuri crumbling, getting upset. Not anymore. Not when he was feeling something that was mirroring what was playing out before him. With bated breath, Victor decided to do them both a favor. To push to get them somewhere. Anywhere except for where they were locked in stasis, now immobile due to things he still couldn't understand.

"I see you're upset. I see that, Yuuri. But you need to tell me why you're afraid! Tell me, what do you want me to do?!"

 

**~**~**

 

It felt like an eternity listening to nothing but the soft babble of water, filling up the chilly morning air. The sound that previously embodied nothing else but peace and serenity had gained another meaning, adding to the tension.

The answer wasn't immediate. When it finally came, finding its way out of something that was crying for it to stay inside, it opened up to other things.

"Vic-Victor? Am I a bother?" It was a whisper, what was being said and the eye contact. Fleeting, almost like they were never there in the first place. "Do you think I'm a bother, Victor?!"

Hearing that answer, that counter-question rather, made something happen inside Victor. Something he was unaware of at first. It started as a small prickle, something he considered to be guilt. Because he felt guilty, guilty of making Yuuri think that of himself when nothing could be further from the truth.

"I don't. You're not a bother."

"Do you still love me? Even though you are tired of me? Angry with me? Even though I upset you?"

The guilt took another shape, something more intense. Resembling panic, resembling a mind-numbing dread. "You… are you really asking me this, Yuuri? If I love you?"

"Y-yes." Yuuri paused for a moment before continuing with a voice that carried the proof of an overwhelming sadness just below the surface. "I-I don't want… I want us to..."

Victor wasn't sure if it was his or Yuuri's pounding heart he was hearing, if it was his or Yuuri's strained breaths taking over the space previously sounding of murmuring water, but hearing that, the distress in Yuuri's voice, the desperation it conveyed, made him lose his way. His resolve melted, and turned into something else.

"You are seriously asking me if I love you? Yuuri, I… I don't know what to say. I…" Before he knew it, the guilt that had morphed into panic became despair. "Why? How can you say such a thing? Have… Have you ever stopped to think what  _this_ is doing to  _me_? What  _I feel_?"

Those brown eyes were fixed on him now. Slightly widened, as if surprised. Maybe even in shock.

"I need you to do something! I'm exhausted! I'm frustrated! You hear me? But most of all, I… I'm…" He took a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. And when he spoke anew, he kept his voice low, as low as he could to prevent it from breaking. "I'm so terrified. Terrified thinking about what will happen to you. If… if you ask me questions like this now, when all I've been doing is loving you, protecting you and trying to make it easier for you, then… are you telling me that I can't love you enough? That I never have? Are you telling me that I've failed you?"

Victor had to look away. He lowered his gaze, looked into the water and sighed when he saw how the water distorted the appearance of his body underneath the surface. "If everything I've done up until now isn't enough, then how will you possibly be okay? What can I possibly do? What do you want from me?!"

Victor knew what he wanted now. He wanted to be comforted. He wanted Yuuri to hold him close and whisper that everything was going to be okay between them. He wanted him to forget all of the things he'd told him. That he was angry. Tired. Upset. He wanted to make him free of whatever he was feeling, he wanted him to understand that nothing that had happened between them was because of him. Not because of his inability to be strong, how he always expected to be carried by him. Because none of those things mattered in the end. They did.

When he heard the sloshing sound of water being stirred, he sighed. When he felt fingers touch his chest, his arms and his face, he shuddered. When he felt his body being pushed into, craved by another, he relaxed. When his eyes looked up and drowned into a pair just like his, just as blurry, just as yearning, just as remorseful, he was overcome with gratitude.

"My love. I… I just want you to be okay. I need you to."

Suddenly, those nights apart meant nothing. Being nothing but entwined, being embraced by familiar arms, legs and hands and finally, a mouth slowly tasting the side of his neck, made Victor forget. Now, he was finally seen. He was finally understood. He was finally loved.

"Hold me back. As hard as you can," those lips against his skin whispered.

So he did. He held on to that body that remained the same, even though his own, marked by what it was fighting, couldn't. He allowed his arms tighten around it as hard as he could, getting a small gasp in return. He let his palms press against the warmth that radiated into them. He forced his fingers to dig in and latch on, gripping fervently, desperately, to whatever they could possibly find.

"I don't want you to leave me." The meaning of Yuuri's words were amplified as his legs wrapped themselves around Victor's hips, clambering on with no regard to customs and decency.

"I know," Victor mouthed into his ear. "I can't possibly leave you with you stuck to me like this, now, can I?"

"You're an idiot," Yuuri sniffed. "You're an idiot, Victor!"

They were finally together. And together, they quaked.


	42. Year One: Winter, part thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

They emerged from the onsen together, with fingers loosely laced and eyes seemingly stuck on each other. It was impossible for them to give an estimate of how long they had been together, submerged in the hot water in a life sustaining embrace and then, getting out and helping each other dress in silence. The kind that said just enough, maybe even everything. Victor loved that feeling. Having Yuuri breathing on him, the way time seemed to stop when they were close. When nothing else could intrude on what they were sharing. When the world revolved around them and shut everything else out.

It was a bittersweet feeling. Even though time felt lavishly slow, generous when being in the moment, he knew that it was an illusion at best. Though, he was willing to accept that fact. Especially after experiencing their reunion. Their homecoming. Because that was what it felt like, having Yuuri against him, around him. Like he'd been gone for an eternity and finally stepped over the threshold, straight into the arms of all of the things that were good. That little moment in time made all the difference. Made it possible to hope for other things.

Victor closed the door to the dressing area behind them as they walked out into the hallway of the inn. He just wanted to touch him, he realised. Feel Yuuri and his warmth seep into him, engage him. He hoped they would get that opportunity later, to rekindle what was lost. To reacquaint.

Thinking about what had played out between them, how Yuuri had come to him, taken the initiative, made him feel that delightful sensation in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to reward him for that, reward both of them. He wanted to undress him, praise him, make him feelㅡ

"Seems like it's time for breakfast," Yuuri pointed out, smelling the air and hence, disrupting Victor's reveries.

"Just a moment, love." Victor tugged at Yuuri's shirt to make him come to a standstill. He put a hand on Yuuri's hip to make him turn around. He was starving, not getting enough of the feeling of him against himself. He needed to say but one thing, make sure that they were in sync. That they indeed were together. "I love you. You  _know_  that, right?"

Yuuri nodded and leaned in to offer him a kiss on the neck.

"Good," Victor cooed, feeling that sensation in his stomach grow and take over a little bit more of him. His hands just wouldn't keep themselves off Yuuri's face, tracing his features. Repeatedly ending up skimming over his eyebrows, his cheeks, that soft and inviting lower lip. How he wanted all of that, claim all of that for himself.

As he decided to lean in, eyes focused on Yuuri's mouth, his own slightly open to take him, he came to a reluctant stop. "Hey, what's on your mind? You seem thoughtful?"

"It's… it's nothing, really."

"You sure?" He brushed some black strands away from Yuuri's face, feeling a current blaze through him when he felt Yuuri's hand ending up on his.  _How I've missed this. The small, simple, everyday things. Him._

"It's fine. Promise."

With a smile, he kissed Yuuri's nose. "Then, let's join your family. I'm starving."

 

**~**~**

 

When they entered the dining hall, they were initially alone. Some bowls and plates were already on the table, spreading a welcoming scent throughout the room. They sat down on the floor, next to each other. Knees slightly touching. Eyes touching even more.

Mari was the first one to join them, giving Yuuri a look that seemed both puzzled and admonishing. Victor realised that something had happened between them, feeling somewhat proud that he'd picked up on that from before. He felt curious, wondering what could have started all of that. Apparently, it was continuing too, judging by the expression on Mari's face.

" _Mornin'. Hey, Yuuri? It's good between you?"_

" _Yes,"_  Yuuri said with a nod, giving her a smile that looked both apologetic and slightly embarrassed.

"What did she say," Victor asked, his curiosity peaked.

"She, uh, just asked if we were doing okay."

Mari nodded in response, seemingly agreeing with Yuuri's English explanation.

"She must have thought that we were acting strange?"

"She… might."

"The way she looked at youㅡ"

" _Yuuri! Victor! Good morning!"_  Hiroko's voice sounded much more cheerful now than when he first encountered her that morning, Victor thought. It was probably out of relief, seeing them together and not openly quarrelling in the hallway or sleeping in different rooms.

" _Good morning, mom."_

"Good morning, Hiroko. Um, Yuuri? Can you translate something for me?"

"Uh-huh."

"We'll have to wait for Toshiya too though, I think. I just want to apologise. It's been… you know."

Victor noticed that Yuuri averted his gaze, just briefly, before he looked at him again. He gave him a small nod, blushing slightly. Apparently, they were on the same page.

Remembering the way they've acted in front of Yuuri's family, Victor almost cringed. An apology was the least he could offer them. For dragging them into something they still weren't a part of. For not thinking about what their argument would do to them. True, he'd been terrified, desperate, but he wasn't sure if it was justified or right in hindsight.

" _Have you slept well,"_  Hiroko asked them as she put some more dishes on the table.

" _We have, thank you."_

" _Papa is coming soon, you can start if you want to."_

"Victor, you can go ahead. Dad's coming soon."

Victor nodded. Despite how much he loved Yuuri and his family, it was hard for him not to be entirely participating due to language barriers. Sure, Yuuri did his best to translate and act as a bridge between the two cultures, the two languages, but he was very well aware of the fact that Yuuri could easily exclude things. That feeling wouldn't subside, when he thought about the exchange between Yuuri and his sister. He could only hope that Yuuri was honest. That it had indeed been just a courteous question, that he wasn't excluding him.

They had barely started to pick out bits and pieces of the traditional Japanese breakfast before Toshiya came in and sat down with a soft grunt.

"So, Yuuri," Victor said, "help me out now, okay?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"I… I just wanted to ask for your forgiveness. We, Yuuri and I, haven't been… We haven't been respectful towards you." Victor made a pause, listening to Yuuri translate into Japanese. "How we acted yesterday, and the day before… I'm sorry. We're both sorry. I didn't mean to involve you in what we were wrapped up in. I hope that you understand that there's a lot of pressure on the both of us right now. It's not an excuse, but an explanation and I think I speak for the both of us when I say that it..."  _Because it won't._ "It won't happen again."

" _Vicchan, you don't have to apologise,"_ Hiroko said, waving her hand a little. " _We understand that competing is stressful for the both of you. But thanks to you, Yuuri would never have been able to do this. You have our gratitude. Thank you for making him fulfill his dreams, we are forever in your debt. We're all so lucky to have you with us as a part of our family. So don't apologise."_

Victor listened to Yuuri's translation and nodded back with a small smile, the one that was automatic and disarming, trying to look as indifferent as he possibly could. Yuuri wasn't indifferent though. His voice was thick of the untold lie, the truth, whatever it was, making Victor put his hand on his knee.

He peered at the Katsukis, wondering if they saw Yuuri as emotional due to Hiroko's heartfelt thank you-speech. He squeezed Yuuri's knee and got a flicker of eye contact in return, before they ended up on the bowl he had in his hands.  _Fuck, it hurts hearing that. I can't imagine what it does to you. Keeping this up. But it must come from you, love. It has to._

" _Yuuri? Care to tell us what you two have been up to for the last couple of days,"_  Mari inquired whilst nonchalantly chewing on some pickled vegetables.

" _Mari!"_ Hiroko gave her daughter a look that took Victor by surprise. She looked stern with her. He never thought his mother-in-law could produce such a sharp tone, look so  _final._

Victor nudged Yuuri a little, sensing the change in the mood around the table. Something was definitely out of the ordinary. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." Yuuri's eyes were still firmly on that bowl. It was empty now, acting as nothing but an excuse for Yuuri to concentrate on.

"Are you sure? Because it sounds likeㅡ"

"I said it's nothing!"

Yuuri's outburst made the entire Katsuki family silent, their eyes firmly on him. Victor felt uncomfortable, not understanding what the argument, because it was clearly an argument, was about. As he was about to ask Yuuri about it, he became interrupted.

" _What's wrong with you two?"_ Toshiya looked slightly annoyed, looking from one child to the other. He had his chopsticks a few inches from his mouth, which looked slightly comical. It probably could have been interpreted as a comical situation, if his voice hadn't been coloured by a tartness. " _Stop bickering like when you were kids!"_

They obliged, the rest of the breakfast being eaten in complete silence, like no one around the table dared to speak up in fear of making it worse. When Toshiya and Hiroko walked away towards the kitchen with the dishes, Victor raised the question again. Not really understanding why he was whispering in Yuuri's ear. It just felt like he had to.

"Love, what was that all about?"

"It's… I, uh… " Yuuri was looking down at his hands that were placed in his lap.

To Victor, he looked bothered. He put his hand on his, squeezing them a little. "Yuuri? What's wrong?"

"We… had an argument before. Mari and I. And she's… she's bringing it up and I… I'm not comfortable with it, with her asking, uh, things."

_That's… interesting._ "Care to tell me what that was about? Was it about us?"

"It… well, yes. Yes, it was. She was being nosy and I don't like that."

"I see. Hey… About what Hiroko said. Doing okay?"

"Y-yes. I'm okay. That's how she, or all of them, feel about you so…" Yuuri's voice grew weak until it became silent, just in time for his parents returning to the table with cups of tea.

" _So,"_  Hiroko said in a voice that definitely sounded like she was done with arguments around the breakfast table, " _when are you leaving for the competition?"_

" _Oh… We… We should be going soon. Four more days, maybe?_ Right Victor? Four more days here?"

Victor nodded.

" _I really wish you luck, son."_ Toshiya put a cup of tea in front of Victor, then Yuuri. " _You'll get it this time."_

" _Thank you for believing in me but… I-I'm not so sure."_

" _Not so sure?"_ Mari put down her cup of tea with a soft sound. " _You've got Victor as your coach, right?"_

Victor saw the change in Yuuri. How he started to slump, how everything about him seemed to scream that he wanted to be left alone or better yet, disappear. He'd seen that reaction too many times to disregard it, knowing where Yuuri would end up if being pushed. Yuuri was beyond uncomfortable. Maybe even close to tears.

"Are you okay? Honey, what are you talking about?" He put an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, feeling hurt when Yuuri shrugged it off almost immediately.

" _Yes,"_ Yuuri started with his head bent and eyes closed, " _I have Victor. As my coach. But… that doesn't mean anything. Not anymore."_

Victor wanted to know. He wanted to know what they were talking about, what made Yuuri's demeanor change. Why he sat with his eyes closed and head tilted down. Why he sounded so emotional.

When he felt that trembling finger lock itself around his, hidden underneath the table, he understood. What had happened, where it was going, what was expected of him. So, he exhaled. And he prepared to catch him.

* * *

" _What? What do you mean 'it doesn't mean anything' having Victor as your coach? Honestly, what is wrong with you, Yuuri? You're acting so strange!"_

He heard his sister's voice, how she filled up his head. How she made the darkness underneath his eyelids start to pulsate in red. It wasn't her fault, he told himself. This was bound to happen. Sometime. Although he'd hoped for it to be later. Preferably never.

Feeling Victor's finger caught around his own didn't make him feel safe. It felt even more daunting, more lonely. More foreboding than anything else. So, he reached out, asked for more and received it.

" _I think… it's… "_

" _Yuuri, are you still married?"_ His mother's voice, filled with concern. Sadness. A tint of fear.

" _Y-yes, we're still… "_ He sighed, feeling the exhale sound like a staccato. It felt like every single part of him vibrated, making ripples from the inside and out. " _We're still married."_

" _What are you saying then, Yuuri? Is this why you've been acting like an idiot? Is that why you've been fighting, sneaking out to sleep somewhere else? You're still married, but Victor doesn't matter to you as a coach?"_  Mari paused, only to address their mother in the following heartbeat in a shrill voice _. "Mom, I think they're divorcing!"_

" _Are you divorcing Victor?! Vicchan, what's_ ㅡ"

" _Now, now. Calm yourselves."_ His father's voice, trying to defuse the situation. Strangely calm for some reason. " _Let him explain. Yuuri? Go ahead."_

The silence was stifling. Like it was slowly creeping up on him, wrapping itself around him, squeezing life out of him with no regards to anything or anyone else. In that moment, Yuuri wanted it all undone, all of that he had started. He wanted to brush it off, leave an explanation,  _any_ explanation how simple and trivial, and just pretend that nothing had happened. Or ever was going to.

But he felt that hand, that warm hand with fingers calmly braided together with his. How the thumb belonging to that hand made small patterns against his skin without changing pace. How that palm rubbed against his and how those fingers gripped his even tighter. He knew that Victor was there, he knew that he would be there still, if he dared to take one step further. If he only dared.

"I can't," he mouthed to himself, pinching his eyes together even harder. Not knowing what he was trying to convince himself of, but inside, he trembled. His innermost being opposing to what his body had finally convinced itself of doing. Making him break, making him disintegrate in the process. Making him think that coming to Hasetsu was nothing but a mistake.

"Yuuri…" Victor's breath on the side of his face. His voice warm and low, spoken into his hear. Filled with tenderness, trust, an otherworldly calm.

Having Victor's breath on him, feeling Victor's hand on his, made him dare. To take the one, almost miniscule step, straight out into the unknown. He was going to fall down into the vastness, the never ending nothingness. The existence he feared to be dark and impossible to escape. But Victor was there. He trusted him to bring him back. And with that understanding, his mouth, tongue and lips made sounds anew.

" _I… We're not… We love each other, still. We always… will? It's just… I haven't been, or no, I never dared to. It's just that I couldn't."_ He opened his eyes, feeling tears escape instantly. He didn't bother to dry them. " _He's, Victor is… He's everything. Everything to me and the fact that… I just can't deal with, or, I…"_

He looked at his family. Their expressions. How they were trying hard to understand his disjointed ramblings but were failing. He felt sad for them, for not being able to do it better, for not being able to do  _anything_  better. He sniffed a little before he continued.

" _This is not Victor's fault, he… wanted me to do this sooner. I just… I can't im-imagine… I just can't be without him and that's why it hurts! Be-because… That's what's happening. I'm going to be without… I'm going to… Victor, he's…"_

He felt his hand being kissed, once. Twice. Comforted by lips slowly tasting the back of his hand, tasting his knuckles. It was… yes, it was exactly like back then. When they had been standing together, holding each other's hands. When Victor's lips had touched his fingers, one by one. ' _Are you ready to go, Yuuri? I'll be right with you.'_  With a smile they parted, only to be reunited underneath the spotlights, underneath the booming voices of a male tenor and a female soprano singing about the unbreakable vow to never leave. Singing about beating hearts merging, arms and legs acting as one. Their voices dying out with a reassuring promise; ' _I'm ready now.'_

And he was too. He didn't know why that was, because it didn't feel sincere. More like he'd been tricked by something inside him, something that bypassed every fort, every bastion he'd carefully been building, meticulously maintaining. Only to strike him from within, where he thought he was safe, had control. He wondered if it was because of the words that had been formed in his mouth the day before. Swallowed only to be spewed up again. No matter how thoroughly he chewed them up. They wanted to escape him again, cascade out of him, taint everything immediately after being let loose.

And he let them.

" _...dying."_

Instead of getting a reaction,  _any reaction,_  he was met with a silence. A confusing silence. Wasn't he worth something, anything? Wasn't Victor?

"Love? Yuuri, darling…"

_Why is your voice so low, Victor? Why is it so calm, why isn't the silence affecting you? Why can't you just tell_ _ㅡ_

"You have to speak up. I don't think they heard you."

The feeling of Victor's lips, brushing against his ear was too much for him to take, the message they delivered so annihilating. When his eyes swept over the faces of his family members, he realised that it was true. He had to do it again, push himself one more time, surrender to the nightmare those words meant, dress the truth in all of that he wanted to forget. Also… Victor  _knew_. He knew, he understood although he shouldn't and he wanted him to continue, to do that second take.

With his hand slowly tightening around Victor's, his breathing being shallow and airless leaving him with a tunnel vision, he then realised he wanted to do but one thing.

" _He's dying! Do you understand now?! Why I'm, why we're… Victor's dying! It's going to come back and then_ _ㅡ"_

"It's okay. It's okay, Yuuri."

He loosened up on the firm grip he had around Victor's hand, not knowing what to do. What to do with himself, with the emotions that clawed through him. With his thoughts, with his body, with everything that was closing in, arriving and taking over.

In a wordless cry, he gave in, melted into him. His coach, his friend, his lover, his husband. His meaning, his context, his reason, his purpose. Just like that, he felt him around himself. On top of himself. Like a shield against all of the things he'd let out, against all of the things that could ricochet back.

He was on his lap, he figured. Bundled up into something small, the action mirroring how he was feeling, how he perceived himself. The world outside was growing dull, muted by every passing second. He thought he heard cries, questions, voices ranging from distraught to frustrated, but they ceased to matter. Everything else around them ceased to matter, as always when they were close. The world created a place for them and them alone, shutting everything else out and left them in their self-made sanctuary.

It was only his words, Victor's words he heard. Like a light fending off the darkness. Sounding clear and strong. When he heard them, he knew he'd succeeded.

"I love you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

He'd made him proud.


	43. Year One: Winter, part fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song mentioned; _Prelude Op. 28, No. 15, 'Raindrop Prelude'_ , composed by **Frédéric Chopin**.
> 
> Song mentioned; _'Only you'_ © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, written by **Buck Ram** , performed by **The Platters**.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

The day trudged on as if mortally wounded. Staggering, ever so slowly, trying to endure the seconds that became minutes, which in turn became an hour. Then two. Then three, but not making it any easier.

There was a strange air to the Katsuki family inn now, making Victor think about the meaning of words. The consequences they brought with them the moment they became disclosed, the impact they had on not only people, but also on more intangible things. After Yuuri's reveal, the reactions that played out amongst the five people exposed to the sound Yuuri's body had made were unique. Brought on by every individual's way of coping and understanding, but also fears and, how unbelievable it seemed, hopes too.

In the moment, just after Yuuri had said what he did with words Victor couldn't understand but still felt the meaning of, he felt a calm. The sensation had been strange, the feeling of sinking weightlessly down into something that never felt menacing but on the other hand, not caring or empowering either. It was like he entered an emotional nothingness, his whole being reacting to the novelty of not trying, not deceiving anymore. Yes, it was a calm, without any kind of positive or negative value. It just was.

Victor had been watching the others as their reactions unfurled in front of him. Saw how Mari, almost immediately, got up and left. His eyes had followed her as she slid open one of the sliding doors to the outside, closed it but not completely and sat down. He'd heard her fight with her lighter, the clicks being fast and erratic at first before they eventually became slow and more deliberate. The prickly and intrusive smell of tar and tobacco found its way into the dining hall shortly after, as well as her sobs. She did nothing in her power to hide them.

His eyes had then turned to Toshiya, seemingly torn between the cultural responsibilities and expectations of a Japanese family man and the severity of what his son just had said and what that, in turn, made him feel. He fought an inner battle too, just like his son. He was better at containing what he was feeling, though, sitting tense with hands tightly clasped into fists on his thighs and his eyes locked on something Victor never saw. To Victor, it had seemed like Toshiya wanted so much but couldn't bring himself to take a step in either direction.

Victor knew what heartbreak was, and seeing Hiroko reminded him of what it felt like. She had shattered. Crumbled between the hard-wired reaction to be there, be enough for her family and the desire to let her own needs come first for a change, which made him see himself in her. It had been a horrid display of everything at once. A display of tears trying to be hidden, but sobs making it impossible. Of her getting to her feet, but sinking back down, bereft. Of names being called out with a trembling hand accompanying, no, reaching out after the owners of said names. Her voice dying out and her hand being retracted only a heartbeat after, internalising everything before the cycle started anew.

Against him, with his face buried in his lap, he'd found  _him_. The person who had brought them all together. The person responsible for Victor feeling like he belonged somewhere. And to Victor, that reaction, that voice crying out into his lap mattered the most. Still in that calm, he'd leaned in and embraced Yuuri. He'd made sure that he held on to him, pulled him close, covered him as much as he could with himself. He'd whispered all and nothing for only him to hear. Words of encouragement, words of pride. Words of love, making him understand that he was his everything. For that was exactly what Yuuri was to him, his reason,  _the_  reason for making him feel there was still time, finally handed to him through an unfathomable distress.

For that, he was thankful. Thankful still, even though hours had passed, even though nothing else had been said. Because now, there was no need to rush. They were in Yuuri's room now, curled up on the futon mattresses on the floor. His chest pressed against Yuuri's back, his nose feeling the scent of his hair, the airy floral scent that differed Japan Yuuri from Russia Yuuri. Yuuri's breaths were slow, the way his stomach was rising and falling made the moment feel serene. It felt similar to the calmness and the ethereal sense of rebirth, just after a storm. When everything has been brought into chaos, only to be reminded that there is something there, something that can act as a comfort and slowly mend. That there is something after the turmoil.

With a slow exhale, he put his arm around Yuuri's waist. Not sure if he was pressing himself against him or pulling Yuuri closer. The result was just as good.

"Can I get you anything," he breathed into the nape of his neck. He would give him anything, everything, if he only asked. That resolve had been strengthened, morphed into becoming his own meaning and purpose during the hours that passed since their reunion, since the reveal.

Yuuri's voice was raspy, strained when he finally spoke. "You don't have to."

"But I want to," Victor replied, letting his lips touch Yuuri's skin. Everything he wanted to take, just hours before, he now wanted to give. He wanted Yuuri to feel loved, seen, appreciated, listened to. He wanted him to know that they belonged, that he was his and the other way around. Because they had been given time, all thanks to him.

"Water, then? And my earbuds. They're on the desk."

Victor slowly got to his feet, briefly mourning the dissipating warmth against his chest. He found Yuuri's earbuds and knelt down, handing them over.

"You okay, love?"

Yuuri sat up and shrugged as he connected the earbuds to his phone, putting one of them into his ear once he was done.

"Does it feel any different," Victor asked faintly, edging around the topic he wanted them to at least think about if they couldn't bring it out between them.

"It hurts. Constantly." Yuuri's answer came immediately. "But… it's done now," he said, almost under his breath.

"It is. And I adore you for that. I love you, Yuuri. I'm soㅡ"

"You always say such things so easily. Why?" He said it with a sorrow to his voice, with a tone that was resigned. With eyes that flickered back and forth, staying on a pair of blue for only a heartbeat at a time.

"Because I never had the chance before, before I met you. I have some catching up to do." He winked, it just happened automatically, out of old habit. Like… everything was normal. Just like that, his heart started to race.  _What if it could be, from here on out? Normal. I'd… like that._

Yuuri's eyes found his, widened a bit before they became soft, full of emotion as a reaction to what had been said.

Victor felt warm hands on the back of his head, inviting him in. Carefully asking him to come closer. Narrowing eyes and lips parting did just the same, so he accepted the offer.

Slowly, they tasted each other. It wasn't a meeting of lust, desire or passion, it was something else. Something new, something that wasn't meant to set ablaze or rouse. More like an affirmation, making them understand that they had started to walk together for the first time, slowly finding each other's hands as support and guidance.

"About that water," Yuuri whispered into Victor's mouth, breaking the contact with a sigh.

"I'll be right back, love." Victor stood up and headed for the door. Before he stepped out of the room where they had been both sundered and reunited, in every meaning the words could possibly convey, he felt like one more thing needed to be said until they were to see each other again. "I'm happy with you."

 

**~**~**

 

It felt strange coming down the stairs. It was quiet. Unbelievably still. Time hadn't passed since breakfast, the emotions were still there. Festering in the walls.

Victor felt guilty, or maybe just a bit ambiguous. It was because of him the inn felt smothered by something invisible and menacing now, but he wanted to believe it was needed. For the best, for not only him and Yuuri but also for Yuuri's family.

How much it hurt to think about it, Victor had come to the conclusion that Yuuri wouldn't have a future in Russia. Not immediately after, anyway. Making sure that Yuuri's family knew,  _really knew_ , felt reassuring. They would take care of him, make him come to Japan. Let him feel what he needed to feel in order toㅡ

_He will. I know he will. He must._

Victor took the few steps needed to reach the kitchen, opening the door slowly. Not surprising, it was empty. Life had left the heart of the inn, the one room that had always been the hub, the epitome of activity. He felt responsible, suddenly doubting if his decision of pushing Yuuri to tell his family was thought out. If it was caring, an act of love. Again, he'd hurt so many. Again, he'd done the one thing he'd promised himself not to do, namely tearing people's life apart. Simply by just being himself. Maybe…  _he_ was that storm?

He opened the refrigerator and picked out two bottles of water. When he turned around, he was met by Hiroko, standing a couple of paces away with puffy eyes and hands wringing themselves around each other.

"Hiroko?"  _What to say? What can I possibly say?_ "I'm sorry.  _Sorry._ "

As soon as the word in Japanese left his lips, one of the few he knew, he felt her hand on his arm. Softly, asking for permission. As he invited her in and put an arm around her shoulders, a stream of words, a stampede of sentences were spoken against his chest. Hands wanting to touch his face, hold his hands, feel what was left of him.

"I'm sorry, Hiroko. I don't understand you," he repeated. Trying his best to approach her in the only way he knew, the only way he'd ever been taught how to. By her son. But he had started to feel something stir inside, something that made it difficult for him to stay calm, stay composed.

" _Vicchan, come. Come, please."_

She tugged at his hand, beckoning him to follow her.

Yuuri had to wait, he decided, putting away the bottles of water on the countertop. He followed her obediently through the dining hall. She opened the door to the outside and they walked together, past a few rooms until she stopped and opened up the sliding door to another.

Victor knew that room, although he hadn't spent any time in it. Yuuri had told him once that it was the room he and Mari shared as children, before Yuuri had been old enough to have his own, the one Victor only knew as his.

" _Come in, come here. We'll have to wait for Mari too. Stay here, Vicchan."_

Victor entered. The room was small, rectangular to its shape, and he felt puzzled by the fact that two siblings had managed to share it for that many years.  _That is the spirit of Japanese people. They… endure._

Behind him, he heard Hiroko move around. He turned around and saw her peer out, saying something low in Japanese and stepped to the side. Mari appeared in the doorway, took of her slippers and entered shortly after.

They shared a look, he and Mari. To him, it looked like she carried the yoke of a person battling shame. And so, pieces started to fall into place, making him hold his breath. He could only imagine what had been said between her and Yuuri, but it was painfully obvious that she considered herself as an instigator. Something that brought on the heartache, the fire to the fuel that made them all end up in this situation. This new and shared reality.

"Mari? Okay?" It was a simple enough question and he got a simple enough answer. A slow shake of the head. "What's this," Victor asked, feeling that stir move around, act more alive and awake.

"Memory of you," Mari said, her eyes seeking his if only for a second. She pointed to the door opposite the entrance. "Come, Victor."

"I'm sorry, I don'tㅡ"

"I show you."

Together, in a one single file, they walked to the door. The few steps were enough to make Victor wonder. Fantasise about what they wanted to show him. Knowing it would have an impact he wasn't sure he was ready for.

"Here," Mari said, touching the door frame. "Mari and Yuuri."

Victor leaned in, desperate trying to make sense of what it was he was being shown. Apparently, it was important to both Hiroko and Mari. So important that they wanted him to see it, which made him both apprehensive and honored at the same time.

"Here, Yuuri. Ten," Mari pointed. "Mari sixteen."

Then, he saw it. Small notches followed by numbers were carved in the doorframe, together with Yuuri and Mari's names overlapping.

"Oh," Victor smiled. "Yuuri was this tall when he was ten?" He put his finger against the notch and the carved in name he recognised as Yuuri's.

"Yes," Mari nodded. "Here, last Yuuri," she pointed.

Victor looked up along the doorframe. Yuuri's name, again. He felt his heart flutter when he realised the last time the Katsukis had made a record of their children's height was when Yuuri was nineteen and Mari was twenty-five.

"He left for Detroit." Victor looked at Mari, and she nodded slowly. "This is amazing. Thank you for showing me this," he said with an earnest smile, his eyes travelling lower along the wood, registering Yuuri's height as a six year-old.

"Victor, too," Mari began, shaking her head a little when she couldn't find the words she wanted. "Memory of you. You mother's children too."

"I'm sorry," he started, "Iㅡ"  _Oh. Oh. Oh, god. I… You… I love you. I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you for this. For giving this to him._  "Yes! Please."

Victor turned his back to the doorpost, listening to Mari feeling around for something in the pocket of her apron. He had to close his eyes, he had to clamp his teeth together. He didn't want them to feel uncomfortable, not after today. He had too much of their suffering on his conscience already.

"Good," Mari said softly, beckoning Victor to step forward. "Finish."

Victor turned around, his eyes stuck instantly to where Mari was pointing. He had to fight his narrowing throat and his burning eyes.

"Vi-ku-to-ru Ni-ki-fo-ro-fu." As Mari carved Victor's name in katakana next to the horizontal notch, reading out one syllable at a time, her voice broke.

Hearing Mari falter made Victor's defenses crumble. His voice became unsteady, quivering due to the tension he was trying to keep inside. The one he wanted them to be saved from. "Hiroko, Mari… I… I-I just…"

"You always here. We never forget!" Mari took the small knife she'd been using and put it back in the pocket of her apron. It was obvious that she was crying, but she stayed true to her reaction that morning and had her head bent down. Not wanting to burden others, not wanting herself to come off as emotional.

Victor felt a hand touching his elbow, he didn't have to look to understand that it was Hiroko. Feeling that tentative touch, that slight pressure reminded him of someone else. Making him reach for her, hold on to her. Desperately needing the support as that locked away distress, that small and seemingly insignificant speck of fear and insecurity exploded and took him under.

The release was underwhelming. He wanted to purge, he wanted the grief to make a difference but the only thing he was left with was something parasitic. With every effort to wring himself out, the panic grew, infected him and took more and more of him in possession as a result. Making it impossible to keep up, making him desperate. He wanted it gone, he wanted it to be normal. He needed it to be normal.

He felt Hiroko's arms reach around him, touch his back and… another pair too? Feeling him, caressing him, trying to soothe. Not making any difference, but trying, really trying to share the pain he was bleeding.

_What am I afraid of? What do I need them to do?! How do I_ ㅡ

"Please take care of Yuuri! Please! Promise me!"

Suddenly, he felt a calm. Like the storm had invoked a resurrection.

 

**~**~**

 

Victor had to touch them before they parted. Feel their faces, kiss their foreheads. Tell them with simple words that he loved them, that he was honored to be a part of their family. When they separated, heading in opposite directions and himself walking up the stairs, he understood that they were bound together now by something else. What they shared together went beyond a simple understanding, beyond him being married to their son and brother, beyond the empathy for someone carrying the weight of knowing one's mortality.

His eyes were immediately drawn to Yuuri's face as he opened the door. His eyes were closed, his right hand close to his face. He looked beautiful. At ease, for some reason. The two rings catching the light made Victor's eyes linger, made him study his face for a little while longer than he had intended.

Victor put the bottles of water on the floor and quietly sat down beside him. He found his phone, upside down next to his glasses on the mattress, and swiped the screen. Spotify was open. Yuuri was, or at least had been, listening to music. His playlist with classical pieces. Victor studied the screen.  _Chopin, huh?_

He took out the earbud closest to him from Yuuri's ear and put it in his own.  _[The Raindrop Prelude](https://youtu.be/J_6APTb3RNQ). Chopin dreamt he was drowning once, making him compose this, they say. Feeling drops of rain on his chest as he felt smothered. Why are you listening to sad pieces like this, honey?_

Victor leaned in and nuzzled Yuuri's jaw, left a kiss on his neck. He purred, wanting him to wake up. "Yuuri…" He traced his lower lip with a finger. "Sorry for taking so long."

A long inhale, a even longer and slower exhale. He was coming back.

"Sorry for waking you. Still want water?"

"Mhm… " Yuuri stretched and yawned before he opened his eyes. "I fell asleep."

"You did." Victor reached for a bottle and twisted the cap off. "Here."

"Thanks." Yuuri sat up and took a mouthful of water, placing a hand on Victor's knee. "Can I…"

"Stop being silly, of course you can." Victor shifted and untangled his legs, allowing Yuuri to come closer and lean back against his chest. "Give me your phone."

"Sure. You don't like," Yuuri glanced at the screen, "Chopin?" Yuuri pressed back against him, curling up with a stifled yawn.

"I do, but not today."

Victor took the phone, and leaned his chin on top of Yuuri's head. He thought about what to listen to, something that could make him declareㅡ

_Perfect._

"Listen," he said softly, putting the phone back down on the mattress.

The guitar [started the song](https://youtu.be/IlVjR5Clz0A) off, and he felt Yuuri laugh against him. He knew that reaction was coming, they've had that discussion before. Yuuri found his taste in music to be as whimsical as himself, and in truth, it was. Victor loved anything that brought out feelings and emotions, even inspiration. All of the things he'd been forced to experience alone, although sometimes watched by thousands, before he had met him.

Yuuri's laugh brought out something in him too, something he addressed with a playfully stern voice. "I told you to listen, didn't I? Shh.  _Listen_."

 

_Only you can make all this world seem right_

_Only you can make the darkness bright_

 

"It'sㅡ"

 

_Only you and you alone_

_Can thrill me like you do_

 

He silenced him. With one hand against Yuuri's chest and the other gripping his chin, tilting it upwards and turning it slightly to gain access, they kissed. When Victor felt Yuuri's lips against his, he let go of his chin, not noticing it himself. His fingers barely touched Yuuri's neck before they ended their journey, resting against his Adam's apple. It brought out a soft mewl from them both, something resembling a promise being sighed into the mouth of the other.

 

_And fill my heart with love for only you_

 

He felt Yuuri's lips almost vanishing, almost breaking the contact with his. It made him open his eyes slightly, feeling a smile tease his face. Yuuri wasn't going anywhere, he wanted more.

 

_Only you can make all this change in me_

 

They were facing each other now, separated by nothing but clothes, feeling the other's need through the layers. Victor hummed, low in his chest when he felt Yuuri's hands on his shoulders, not knowing if they or his mouth were the reason for him leaning back. He complied, allowed himself give in to the pressure.

 

_For it's true, you are my destiny_

_When you hold my hand_

_I understand the magic that you do_

 

He felt fingers lacing themselves together with his, his hands and arms being guided slowly and pressed down above his head into the mattress. Yuuri's tongue was begging to enter his mouth, making him grip Yuuri's hands tighter. He wanted Yuuri to sway his back and flex into him, needing the friction only he could provide. He put a leg over Yuuri's back, pulled him close, gasping when their hips dug into each other.

 

_You're my dream come true_

_My one and only you_

 

With foreheads being close, noses touching, they bid the moment goodbye as the music waned in their ears, opening their eyes thereafter.

"So," Victor whispered, "have you thought about practise?"

"Wh-what," Yuuri huffed in amusement.

"The Grand Prix Final isn't won by slackers like you, Katsuki."

"I, uh, must check in with my coach what he's planned for me. I  _think_ he wants me to do cardio today."

"He's smart man, that coach of yours. I hope you listen to him." Victor laughed and playfully bit Yuuri's cheek.

"Ow! I try to. He's the best. The best one I've ever had."

"I'm sure he feels the same about you."

"I… I think so too. I've gotten that impression."

Victor sighed a little. "Yuuri?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you, no matter what happens."

Yuuri let go of Victor's hands and scooted down, placing his head on Victor's chest.

"I love you too." Almost inaudibly, he continued in Japanese. " _Even after it gets silent in there._ "

"Sorry?"

"Not now, Victor. Not yet."

Victor put his hands in Yuuri's hair, stroking it back in a seemingly endless repeat. "It doesn't matter, love. We've got time."

* * *

In retrospect, Victor knew that there were a possibility, although he never wanted to acknowledge it. A possibility for things to end up like they did.

He wasn't sure how to address it, now that they were home for the first time in a little more than two weeks. Home, within the sanctity of their four walls. Home, with luggage strewn across the living room. Home, with them both feeling disappointed but due to very differing reasons.

Clouds had started to gather on their way home from Marseille, after the Grand Prix Final. The closer they got to St. Petersburg, the sky had started to growl and as soon as the door to their flat clicked itself closed behind them, it opened up. Brought on a thunder that had to rage on for it to become still.

But it wasn't still, at least not yet.

"Yuuri," Victor tried, "listen.  _It doesn't matter._ " He was on the sofa in the living room, his eyes followed Yuuri as he rummaged around in his bags, unpacking by tearing things out of them instead of opening them properly. "Can you stop doing that?"

He wasn't graced with a response, which made him try again. Sounding more assertive. "I told you to stop."

"If you don't stop talking to me, I'm going toㅡ"

"What? You're going to do what?" Victor stood up and walked over to him. "Honey, comeㅡ" His hand was slapped away when it touched Yuuri's shoulder, sparking a heat that threatened to take over.

"Don't!" Yuuri's voice was coloured by a lot of emotions. Not only disappointment, but also anger. Sadness. Desperation.

Victor scoffed and walked to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. He cursed himself. He should have known, he should have seen it coming. Yuuri was different from him, more in his head. As a coach, he should have talked to him about it, he should have done something.  _Anything._

He heard Yuuri coming closer. When he turned around, he was standing on the other side of the kitchen island, tracing the marble edge with his fingers.

"I know you hate loㅡ"

"It has got nothing to do with that!"

"Okay. Then what?"

"I wanted to! I  _really_  wanted to this time! Do you know that?!"

"I know you did. I was there."

"Stop trying to be funny! It's not!"

"I wasn't trying to. Yuuri, come on. It doesn't matter, not to me."

"But it does to me! When we first met, you told me that you would make me win the… And now, I've…"

Victor put down his glass and walked around the kitchen island. He let out a small sigh, and looked at Yuuri's hand. It wanted to be touched, he figured, so he let a finger tentatively skim the back of Yuuri's hand, getting a brief look in return before Yuuri lowered his gaze.

"How do you think it makes me feel? Not being able to… not being able to motivate you? Carry you through it? If anything, this is on  _me._  Not you."

"No. No. Victor, I… I've failed you. I've done what everyone knew would happen when you started to coach me."

"Love… Yuuri, please."

"It's true!" Yuuri's voice grew higher, more shrill. "I've wasted your time! I took you away from what was an amazing career! I've…"

Brown met blue, and a shiver instantly rippled across Victor's skin. But he listened, held his breath.

"It just disgusts me! Th-the last thing Victor Nikiforov would ever do in his career is to coach a fucking failure! This is all because of me! I wanted this, I really wanted you to be proud of me, I wanted them to know that nothing you've ever done has been in vain but now… I couldn't! Victor, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, please forgive me!"

Victor opened up and guided Yuuri close, close against his chest. He just kept him there, tightened his arms around him with every ripple he felt against himself. He was hit by a wave of warmth, having him against him. He loved him. He loved his determination, his sense of pride. He loved his fragility, that glass heart of his. He loved everything about him.  _His_  Yuuri.

"It doesn't matter, love. You know why?"

He felt Yuuri move his head, not knowing if it was a nod or a shake which made him continue.

"I don't need any more gold medals. You're my gold. You've got nothing to prove." He heard Yuuri whimper, which made him kiss his hair. He needed that diversion, he needed to forget about that trembling lower lip, that anger that still teased him with its presence. In an almost too matter of factly-sounding voice, not knowing if it was himself or Yuuri he was trying to console, he continued. "There's Nationals. We have Worlds, if you stillㅡ"

"You don't know that," Yuuri sniffed against his shirt. "You can't possibly know that!"

"True. But I need you to find that out with me." He brought a hand to Yuuri's cheek, and felt a flutter inside when Yuuri leaned into it, covered it with a hand of his own. "Also… I want us to live, honey. Until then."

"How?"

"I don't know. Like we used to?"

Victor felt Yuuri let go of his hand and buried his face against his chest. He wasn't sure but he thought Yuuri whisper something, he felt his breath through his shirt and finally touching his skin. But he heard nothing.

If he had asked him to speak up, and maybe not address his chest, he would have heard something discouraging but nonetheless true.

"I just don't think I know how to, anymore."


	44. Year One: Winter, part fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never (or rarely) write notes to chapters but this one demands it. This has been one of those extremely hard to write-chapters. I've been trying for weeks on end finishing this, editing it, _desperate_ in making it worthy of Victor and Yuuri. There's so much I wanted for them in this chapter, and I hope you think I succeeded.
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

It was unbelievable, the way he declared it. Like he was testing him, his attention, his presence, his devotion to him and his life. Surely, it was a joke, deciding it just a few days before. Indifferently like, over dinner. Like it would take away the edge.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me."

"I… I think I did. But why? Why now?"

"I just decided that I don't want to, that's all."

The glass, now empty, made a low sound against the table. He tried not to let that simmering annoyance shine through, tried to refrain it from bubbling up to the surface as he swallowed the water. He knew that he would lose the fight immediately, miss out on getting any answers.

_Victor?_

He exhaled. The question sounded sharp, he realised that, but it just came out that way. The moment of surprise was greater than his self-control. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because."

He got a look, one that was very unlike him. One that somehow declared that they were done talking about it. Or at least, that  _he_  was done talking about it. The way he stood up and took his plate without so much as a glance in his direction, leaving him alone at the table, was evidence enough.

"Is it because of what happened at the Grand Prix Final?"

_Victor?_

A scoff was heard from the kitchen before the faucet started to run, filling up the sink with water.

"Then what?" It was strange to him how important it was, hearing an explanation. He tried to remember if he'd ever been that demanding, seeking answers and reasons instead of just accepting, but he came to the conclusion that not doing things never was an option before. Not to them. They'd always pressed on, eyes forward, following their hearts and now… yes, it was different. There were doubts in their lives now, and those doubts reigned supreme.

He decided to follow him, his own plate in one hand and empty drinking glass in the other, feeling disgustingly unsatisfied. ' _Because'? What does that even mean?_ No, he needed to know. He needed to know if this change, this strange new behaviour, was a result of the events that had taken place or if it was because of him. Maybe it was all the same? It probably was.

"Leave them there, I'll do them tonight." Bubbles filling up the sink, dishes being put in. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He pulled at a black strand of hair, feeling at a loss for things to say. Hoping to get something, anything, out of him.

_Hey, Victor?_

"Don't pull my hair."

"Then you better answer me first."

The silence was pressing, almost ear deafening when the water stopped running. But the atmosphere was different than just seconds ago. It felt gentle. Airy. Undemanding.

Arms suddenly surprised him by reaching around his neck, hands being still and fingers laced together.

"Why do you think?"

He shook his head, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Loving the peace offering of hands around him, a body being close to his, eyes meeting each other. "I've stopped figuring you out. You're too much for me. That's what I think."

"You're silly."

"Now, that's avoiding the subject. We were talking about you."'

"Okay, okay. It's just that I… well, I decided that I want to do something else."

"Something else? Something else than  _skating_?"

"Yes. Something I love. Something that feels important."

"Honestly, love. What can be more important than your career? Than you showing them that you're the top skater in Japan right now? It's Nationals, for god's sake."

_Wake up, Victor._

He opened his eyes, dumbfounded. Being tired made him see double, making it difficult for him to focus. He wasn't really sure if was awake or not. The sensation was ambiguous, muddled by voices saying things he remembered but also things previously undisclosed. When he finally blinked away the sleep, his eyes found something familiar, something that made him relax. Brown eyes, mere centimetres away from his face, smiled contently at him. The best view in the world.

"Good morning, Victor. Happy birthday."

* * *

The lips that woke his, made them come alive after the little death that a deep sleep really is, tasted of strawberries. Initially sweet when lips tentatively touched each other, nibbling carefully and bidding good morning, but gaining a tartness that matched the urgency when tongues finally began their claim.

Victor's heart began to beat harder, relishing the hands around his face, the weight on top of him, the taste and feel of Yuuri in his mouth. The surge brought on by rushing blood, crashing in like waves upon waves.

Before Yuuri came into his life, his birthdays had been nothing like this. For years, his birthday was synonymous with skating, empty smiles, impersonal hotels and sleeping alone. An existence without the warmth and the purpose, the warmth and the purpose he'd been chasing for as long as he could possibly remember. And two years ago, it all changed. It finally changed.

Two years ago was the first time he'd spent it with him. With the person who, just days before, had graced him with something round and golden. Something that demanded a promise from him, one he was glad to offer without thinking twice. Because at that moment, he felt complete and ready.

And now, that person who had graced him with, or awoken rather, the two things he'd sworn to never surrender was on top of him, around him, inside him. Making him feel not only life and love, but also very much  _alive_.

"Viㅡ" Yuuri's words were interrupted by their meeting, his voice still humming in his throat.

"Mm?" Making a sound that sounded very much like a question, Victor tried to stifle a smile as his tongue skimmed against Yuuri's. He had no intention of letting him go. For all he cared, they could spend all day in bed together, feeling nothing but skin against skin. He'd be perfectly fine with that arrangement, but the way Yuuri tried to speak made him understand that he had plans. Other plans, probably just as good.

With some playful struggle, he let him go. Just barely, just enough to let him part from his lips. "You were saying?"

"I made you breakfast, it's going to get ruined ifㅡ"

"If I don't love you enough? Tsk, come here, you!" He locked his legs behind Yuuri's back with a laugh and put a hand on Yuuri's head.

Yuuri started to squeal as soon as Victor playfully munched on the side on his neck, tickling him with his tongue.

"So tasty! You're making it hard for me, can't I enjoy my breakfast in peace?"

"Victor, stop! I can't breathe! It tickles," Yuuri screamed between gasps.

"You told me to eat!"

"N-not  _me_! Stop, I'm going to hurt you!" Yuuri tried to thrash out of his grip, laughing hysterically.

The noise of something falling down, hitting the floor, interrupted them. Made them stop their impromptu love match for a couple of seconds. They looked like deer caught in headlights, eyes widened and surprised. Like little boys being reprimanded for doing something not entirely thought through. And like little boys, they reacted accordingly, albeit differently from each other with one of them laughing some more and the other taking responsibility.

"No, I'm sorry! I must have kicked it!" Yuuri scrambled to get out of bed.

"It doesn't matter, love! Just leave it, we'll clean later!"

"But Iㅡ"

"Yuuri, it's fine! It's perfectly fine!" Victor paused as he saw Makkachin trot through the doorway into the bedroom. "What's on the floor? Did it break?"

"No, it didn't and it's yoghurt. I-I can clean it up, I just have toㅡ"

"Leave it to Makka, we'll clean later. Okay?"

"But I… Fine, but I didn't… Oh, I should go and get another bowl, though?"

Victor huffed when he saw Yuuri's face. He looked like yoghurt on the floor was an augury of the end of the world. Victor loved that about him, how the smallest thing being out of place or unplanned could set him off, making him even more unsettled. Making him try even harder. It meant that it was important to him, his birthday, and that was the greatest affirmation Victor could ever get.

Victor sensed a small shiver down his spine, one of conflicting origins. There was someone who cared about him being born, being alive, and trying really hard to make him see that too. Not because of his achievements, his way of shaking people with movement alone, but because of respect and love. How excruciatingly bittersweet. He understood Yuuri's reaction, though. The nervousness, the regrets and self-blame. Who wouldn't under the circumstances, having planned the birthday of a significant other and said plans immediately backfire? Especially when there was a possibility that it could be the veryㅡ

 _No! None of that today. Today, tomorrow doesn't exist, for none of us._ Victor sat up and scooted over to Yuuri, placing a hand on his thigh. He wanted normal. Yearned for it to be his glass slipper and the day his ball, until midnight.

Before he spoke, he made sure to shrug it off. That wet and heavy cloak made out of what-ifs, please-don'ts and not-nows, an incredible burden on a day like this. "No need," he sighed. "Share what's left with me."

With a nod and a small smile, Yuuri reached over to the tray, now shoved close to the edge of the bed and teetering precariously. He picked it up and put it closer to them, closer to the centre of the bed.

"What do you want first?"

Victor looked at the contents placed on the tray. Gratitude, adoration and humility fought with sadness within him for some reason. Fought with a prickling sense of panic and some longing, too.

"I, uh…"  _Who knows how many more… No! Not today. Stay here, stay here with him!_

"Don't… don't you like it?"

"Honey, I…"  _With him._ "I… I love it. I absolutely love it. I'm just… thankful, I guess. You getting up early, making this. For  _me._ "

He felt Yuuri's hand on his, fingers softly caressing the back of his hand before being braided together with his.

"No matter how you look at it," Yuuri began with a voice that, at least to Victor, sounded like he was mirroring him completely, tapping in, being tossed between everything and not enough, "a person turns thirty only once. Why not make it count, no ma-matter… no matter what?"

Blinking away what was threatening to escape, Victor leaned in and kissed Yuuri's cheek, feeling his sigh against his own.

"I'm glad you made that decision," he said simply. "I'm glad you skipped Nationals."

Yuuri smiled. It was one of those smiles Victor knew was put on to make him appear like so much more than he actually was. Like he was okay, not sentimental, without a care the world. Nothing could be further from the truth. With eyes latched onto his and a tone of voice saying so much more than it actually did with words, he spoke. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Can you feed me like you did in Japan?"

Yuuri's hand found his cheek immediately. And Victor's mouth found his.

* * *

"Victor?" Yuuri's voice was barely audible over the running water, cascading down the both of them.

"Mhm?"

"Soon, I'll be able to do this to you too."

Victor laughed at the statement, not understanding what he meant. He was standing close, shampooing Yuuri's hair. Purposefully massaging up a lather before he pushed his head back, gently into the stream.

"I don't know if you've thought about it," Yuuri continued, "but it shows now."

"What shows, love?" He raked his fingers through Yuuri's hair, rinsing out the shampoo.

"You're getting your hair back."

He stopped, stopped running his hands through the wet blackness that was Yuuri's. Quickly after, brown eyes were on his, eyes suddenly asking for forgiveness.

"Don't," he said, trying to keep his voice mellow. For he had noticed, noticed the silver tinted shadow on his head getting longer, more pronounced. But like so many other things attributed to himself now, he tried hard not to hope. Tried hard not to get excited. Eventually, although no one knew how long it would take, his excitement and joy wouldn't matter. Pointing things out would only make it worse, it would acknowledge things he was bound to lose a second time.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri whispered, putting his head against Victor's chest. "It's just that I…" He suddenly laughed, interrupting himself.

"You what, love?" Victor's arms overlapped themselves around Yuuri's back. Trying not to think, trying to forget.

"I… can't wait to hold on to it. When we, um, you know?"

That debilitating jolt of electricity, the wonderful torrent following in its wake. Victor felt his body react immediately, heart beating faster, his breathing picking up. That inflexible, firm feeling of desire flaring up, answering to Yuuri's seemingly intentional beck and call.

He had to bury his face in the groove of Yuuri's shoulder, collect himself in order to function. But it was hard,  _he_  was hard and it felt nothing less than amazing. He wanted so much now, he realised. Things he knew were there, and if he asked, he most certainly would receive. A perfect diversion, something that could make him not think so much, make him forget.

With a voice barely contained, borderlining a moan rather than spoken words, he answered. "Oh-hoh, really now?"

His hands slid down Yuuri's back, slick and wet, before they ended up at the sway. The waxing and waning curves, made for tracing, holding on to.

"Yuuri?" He pressed him against himself. He got a noise out of him, soft like a sough. "I wantㅡ"

"You will. You will. But… not now. Okay?"

"When?" He picked at Yuuri's lips with his own. Wanting to get lost, found, used, respected. Needing him to be the catalyst to what was inside of him, pleading to get out.

Yuuri stepped back, pushing his hair out of his eyes. With a smile, he reached for the bottle of bodywash. "Turn around."

" _When?"_

He turned around, accompanied by the sound of bodywash being squirted out of the bottle. He put his hands against the tiled wall, feeling the need of keeping them against something steady in order to keep them to himself.

Yuuri's hands on him were warm. Purposeful. Gentle. Starting their travels on his shoulders, venturing down along his back, his sides. Massaging bodywash into his skin. His body cried, relishing the touch. A longing after things that once were, that somehow seemed to rekindle in that moment.

"I… I love touching you." How empowering it was to hear. Yuuri's voice, calm and steady. Filled with that adoration from when they were new, when everything was simpler. The one that Victor on occasion, had wondered existed still.

He needed that reminder. Although Yuuri's touch was all he ever sought, the only thing that could make him surrender his worries, he wanted yet another affirmation. He wanted to hear him say the words that could make the last sliver of doubt disappear.

"Even now?" He breathed the question and put his weight on his hands. Counted the seconds until the answer came, quivering inside.

"Yes. Especially now."

An exhale. To shed tension perhaps? To build the anticipation of something more? Or, to just stay in the moment, to completely luxuriate in the understanding that it was the way it was, once.

Yuuri's hands travelled further, along parts of him now unrecognisable, down his legs. He held his breath, spreading his legs further apart. Seeking, needing, wanting. And his body roared.

" _When,_ Yuuri?"

He gasped. It wasn't unintentional, the way a hand touched the inside of his thigh, tentatively feeling grooves and folds made by skin. It was with purpose, a rapturous ambition.

He whined his response. " _Now_?"

"Yes. Now."

An arm found its way around his hip, resting quietly. A hand held his torture, tightening its grip. A mouth met his shoulder, teeth sinking in.

Motion, a dance between them both. Finding the steps to reach the crescendo.

"Mmmhh… and you, what about you?"

"Shh."

"Ahh… I feel you, you want, haaah… it too, can't Iㅡ"

"No. This is all about you. Take it! I want you to!"

"Can't I at least see your, ngh… yo-your face? Love, please! Let me see, let me, letㅡ"

Mouths and eyes met, staying open, answering the plea. Wanting to take it in, take it all in. Even though the quaking made it hard, close to impossible, they saw each other. Stayed with each other. Held on to each other until ripples became smooth, until breaths became calm and the world became completely still.

Suddenly, feeling hope and excitement wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all.

* * *

"Let's walk along the river," Victor proposed, tightening his muffler around his neck. "Okay with you?"

"Sure! Where to? The park by the cathedral? We can let Makka go off the leash?"

"Sounds like an excellent plan."

They got out of the lift and exited their building with Makkachin in tow, heading down to the Fontanka riverside.

"It's always so windy here," Yuuri exclaimed, fighting with the zipper of his parka.

"It is. It's like Hasetsu."

"Only colder. And darker. And a whole lot snowier."

"True." Victor huffed a little. "So… Yuuri?"

"Mhm?"

"About today. I know that you said 'no presents' but I still feel like I want to give you something. And I'mㅡ"

"I don't want anything. I don't need… or, what I need is to be with you today. Also, birthdays will always trump Christmas."

"Oh, you." Victor found Yuuri's hand and braided their fingers together. "I must have been really kind in my previous life to end up with you, huh?"

"Or amazing in this one?"

"Your words, not mine!" He winked at Yuuri before he guided his gloved hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

"You seem happy today," Yuuri said, gathering up Makkachin's leash.

"Why shouldn't I be? Breakfast in bed, action in the shower, a walk with my two favorite boys. It just keeps getting better."

"Victor?" Yuuri pulled at his arm to make him stop. "I will try, okay?"

"Hm?"

"I really want to try for you. I want you toㅡ"

"You are. You are, love." He leaned in and pulled down Yuuri's muffler a bit, placing a kiss on his lips. "I have a feeling you'll continue to surprise me. Come, go left here."

They walked along the river, blending in with the people who dared to battle the wind by venturing outside. Victor glanced at Yuuri, feeling a warmth spreading inside despite the wind. It pushed further and further through his veins by a quickened pulse, taking him over. Yuuri wanted to do more, wanted to try more. Hearing him say that cemented something within Victor, something that already had a shaky foundation. The sense of normality.

His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a middle-aged woman, leading two children by the hand. As soon as she had passed them, she called out with a hesitant voice.

" _Excuse me, but aren't you Victor Nikiforov?"_

A second gives a person plenty of time to think. How to react, what to say. If there's room for honesty, if privacy should be prioritised. If there's even a point in doing anything at all. Ironically, Victor faced one of his worst fears on his thirtieth birthday, holding Yuuri's hand. But he felt his hand being squeezed, the gesture acting as a lot more than what it seemingly was to anyone else than to him.

" _The skater?"_ He said it with a laugh, one that felt strangely  _sincere_ , as he turned around.

" _Yes! Or… no, or yes, yes, the skater!"_

He let go of Yuuri's hand and extended his own. The words that tumbled out of him were honest and true, although no one could possibly know that except for the person whose hand just got left. " _You recognised me! Impressive!"_

She laughed a nervous laugh. She sounded starstruck, like a girl seeing her fantasy come to life. " _How can anyone forget that smile, those blue eyes? You can try to cover them up all you like in warm clothes but I'd recognise you anyway!"_

They shook hands. The children, a boy and a girl, hid behind the woman even though she tried to coax them to step up and do the same.

" _It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, children. We'll never see a man like him in the sport ever again, believe me."_

" _It's okay,"_  he laughed to the children's defense. " _Not everyone cares about skating."_

" _I… I'm sorry, but I felt so sad hearing about you retiring. But I understand that athletes can be like dragonflies, like shooting stars. You have your moment, just briefly, and then_ ㅡ"

" _It's gone,"_ he interrupted her.

" _Oh, I wouldn't say that! Or, the moment may be gone but you're transcending. Your legacy will be remembered forever. Also, looking at him looking at you,"_ she nodded in Yuuri's direction, " _I have a feeling that you're special even when you're not skating. It's not like us ordinary folk. I mean, what will people remember of me, my life and my achievements? I'm nothing but a cashier!"_  She shook her head, excusing herself. " _But here I am, rambling and taking up your time. You must have other things to do, surely?"_

" _I might,"_ he smiled, " _but they can wait just a second longer."_

She giggled as her hand reached for her pocket.

"Yuuri? Would you mind?" He looked to his side and found himself caught by brown eyes, smiling. Cheering him on. Telling him that they knew. That he was trying too.

"I would  _love_ to."

 

**~**~**

 

They reached the park surrounding St. Isaak's Cathedral. Yuuri let Makkachin off the leash, and the poodle darted off immediately with a cloud of snow billowing behind him.

"Look at him go!"

"He loves when we're out together. We need to do that more," Victor said, his eyes following the brown tornado.

"Hey, Victor? Back there, that woman?"

"Yeah?"

"What did she say?"

"She was a fan, apparently. She was sad about me retiring."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And… well, somehow, she thinks that I'll live forever. Imagine that."

Victor felt Yuuri's hand around his waist, his hand ending up in his coat pocket in a loose embrace. Of course, Yuuri didn't answer. Victor didn't expect him to, there wasn't much to add to the statement. But he met him, acknowledged him by standing by him and that was more than enough. Even though the they sounded unintentionally harsh, final in some way, Victor realised that the random words from a random stranger were strangely comforting.

"Also," he added after a moment's contemplation, "she said that you were looking at me in a way that made her think I'm special. Even when I'm not skating." Victor chuckled and answered to Yuuri's touch by putting his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Together, they watched Makkachin as he plowed through heaps and piles of snow.

"He's got a lot of life in him, despite his age," Victor said almost to himself.

"Yes, he does. He's been well taken care of."

"His daddy is too. Come here."

They stood face to face, studying each other. Watched as the other's breath became smoke, disappearing into thin air. How eyelashes were coated by a thin layer of ice, defrosted with every blink only freeze anew. How lips were wetted by tongues in preparation of what was to come.

"Yuuri?" Victor whispered as he removed Yuuri's glasses, leaning just a little more.

"Y-yes?"

"Photo or video?"

"What?" He huffed in amusement at the question.

"You heard me, photo or video?"

"What for?" Yuuri peered at Victor, made a little shrug just to say that it didn't matter, him understanding the purpose of Victor's request, and answered. "Video?"

"Great choice." Victor reached down in his pocket and took out his mobile phone. "Can you make out with me for a minute?"

"A minute? That's specific."

"Yes or no?"

"Don't be an idiot."

"Okay, just tell me when so I can start thㅡ"

Victor managed to press record just by chance, overwhelmed by fingers digging into clothes, eyes being open and mouths building bridges in between.

* * *

A slow walk home, through the drifting snow. A long nap, being entwined, around and on top. A dinner being prepared, made together and eaten from each other's plates. Suddenly, it was early evening with darkness blanketing St. Petersburg.

They were in the sofa, tired and sated by not only food. Like so many nights previously gone by, Victor had Yuuri's back leaned against his chest and in between his legs.

Victor looked down at Yuuri, or at least tried to. His head was distorting the view, but the low sound from the phone made Victor smile. He knew very well what he was doing. And why. Even so, he asked.

"Are you seriously going to watch it again?" He ruffled the top of Yuuri's head with his face and inhaled his scent. "You can transfer it to your own phone, you know."

"I will," Yuuri said. "We look so happy here."

"It's because we are. Right?"

He felt Yuuri's hand caress his shin, found its way underneath the leg of his trousers.

Before Yuuri managed to answer, they were interrupted by the chime of a mobile phone. Yuuri's, that ringtone was hard to miss, even harder to ignore.

Yuuri leaned over to the coffee table to reach his phone, spent a second looking at the screen.

"It's mom," Yuuri said. "Facetime."

He swiped to answer.

" _Hi mom! Merry Christmas."_

" _Hi honey. Merry Christmas! I'm not bothering you, I hope? How are you? How's Victor?"_

" _We're fine. Just waiting for the skating to start soon. Hey, oh_ wait _,_ um, Victor," Yuuri said, stumbling between the languages, "want to say something?"

"Of course I do!" He tried his best to peer over Yuuri's shoulder and gave the phone a small wave. "Hi Hiroko! Merry Christmas!"

" _Happy birthday, Vicchan! Yuuri, tell Victor that we're sorry that we couldn't be with him for his birthday, but we're so happy that we got the chance to see him earlier this month."_

"Don't worry," Victor replied after hearing Yuuri's translation. "I have this Katsuki with me, and he's just as good as the rest of you. Maybe even a little bit better." He planted a loud and theatrical kiss on Yuuri's cheek before pointing to the beanie he wore, his birthday present. "I love it! It did great outside in the cold today."

Hiroko laughed, sounding delighted before she spoke anew. " _Yuuri? Are you two doing okay? Really? I worry, you know."_

" _Mom, it's fine! It's Victor's birthday today so I kind of want to… "_

" _I understand. Oh, papa and Mari say happy birthday and merry Christmas too."_

" _Thanks. I'll tell Victor."_

" _We… we're going to call you two more often now."_

" _Yes. I understand. And that's… that's good."_

" _So… Have a lovely evening, you two. I'm thinking about you."_

" _Thank you, mom."_

"Are we hanging up already?"

" _Yeah_ , she doesn't want to keep us."

"Oh, in that case; Take care Hiroko! From Russia with love! Bye-bye!" He blew a kiss towards the phone.

" _Bye-bye! Oh, and Yuuri?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _Take care of each other. And… we're here, just a phone call away. Okay?"_

" _I-I know, mom. It's fine. We're fine. And we will."_  Yuuri's hand left Victor's leg and found his face instead. " _Talk to you soon. Bye, mom."_

" _Bye Yuuri. Bye Victor."_

Yuuri hung up, and sat looking at the screen.

Victor put his hand over Yuuri's, Yuuri's touch digging into his cheek. "How nice of her to call," he said simply.

"Mhm."

"So…" Victor began, wondering if it was time. He decided that it was. "Yuuri?"

"Yes?"

"They came."

He felt Yuuri tense up against him, the hand against his cheek growing rigid. How his breathing came to a stop, or became extremely shallow. They had waited for this ever since they went together; fingers clutching, hearts beating in their throats, panic threatening to overflow. But they had went, together. To the first judgement, only to see where their lives would go from there. To the first post-treatment check up.

"And?" Yuuri's voice was derived of emotion. It was impossible for Victor to judge if there was something behind it, maybe just underneath the surface.

He brought Yuuri's hand to his lips and kissed it. "Turn around. Face me."

"Tell me."

"It's  _my_ birthday."

The comment made Yuuri turn around in one smooth move. Maybe it was the tone of voice, the words Victor deliberately had chosen, the torturous anticipation, but nevertheless, he turned around. Brown eyes were focused now, Victor noticed, focused on blue without even blinking. Reading into the small snippets of information they had at their disposal.

"It'sㅡ"

"ㅡnot back. It's not back, love. Not yet."

The reactions were calm. A deep exhale, arms around his body, a head placed on top of his chest. But they grew in intensity, with quickened breaths, fingers digging in, a mouth on his. Actions speaking louder than words, actions conveying relief, gratitude and a flicker of annoyance.

"How long have you…" Yuuri breathed in between. In between the tastes, of lips wanting to feel, of lips wanting to savor the moment, of lips pressing infinite prayers against their kin.

"A couple of days."

"And you  _waited_  to tell me this?"

"I wanted to surprise you. Good news is worth the wait." He smiled. "So, about not wanting any presents? It's silly, but… Merry Christmas, Yuuri. Sorry."

"I love you. You hear me?" Yuuri pressed his forehead against Victor's, hands enveloping his face. Yuuri's breath felt like a tickle, the sensation so apt.

"I do. Nothing's ever been clearer."

 

**~**~**

 

They settled on watching the Russian Nationals. It felt strange to them sitting together at home, curled up against each other with cups of something hot resting in their hands. Silently watching it all from the outside. But how strange it felt, it also felt new. New in a pleasant way.

Nationals had always been the most stressful time of the year, with the both of them being forced apart if they wanted to defend or challenge the right to the title. Being alone was hard, trying to get in the zone, not having the other for support was even harder. Yuuri had always been the one drawing the shorter stick due to Victor's double commitments as a competitor and coach, and now, it was nothing like that. It was just the two of them, enjoying each other's company for the first time during the intensity Nationals meant to any skater.

"Isn't it strange," Yuuri mused, "how Japan and Russia's Nationals are arranged at the same time? It's always on the same weekend. Or almost, anyway."

"You know, I've never thought about it before. Not before I met you. You have, I take it?"

"I have."

"Huh."

They watched in silence. Saw how the men's short program from the day before had singled out the ones now competing in the free skate. Saw how new and promising talents kept pouring in from below, proving themselves to be the future of Russia's figure skating scene.

"Yurio's had a good season," Victor said, resting his chin in his hand as he saw the blond leave the kiss and cry, "but he's thinking too much tonight. Doubt that score will hold up."

"Hm. He'll be disgusting to deal with next week if he doesn't make it to the podium." Yuuri brought his cup of tea to his mouth and took a sip, leaning his head on Victor's shoulder. "We all do, by the way. Think too much."

Victor kissed his hair, wondering if Yuuri's words were an invite or not. Wondering where they would take him. "Oh? What do you think about?"

"A lot of things." Yuuri shifted against Victor and sat up. He put his cup on the coffee table, reaching for Victor's a second after.

"What's this," Victor huffed in amusement as he let go of his cup, feeling Yuuri's hands return shortly afterwards to hold on to his.

"I… I don't know. It's… something I've wanted to do for a long time but I haven't really been able to until recently. Until now, I guess."

"You're making me intrigued. What are you trying to say, Yuuri Katsuki?"

"I'll try to tell you but I need you to just listen, okay.  _Quietly_  listen." He squeezed Victor's hands a little before taking a breath. A deep breath.

"I will, love. Promise."

"Good. Um… remember when we went to Japan in the summer?"

"I do."

"Remember how we told my family of us? Of our marriage?"

"Now you're just teasing me, of course I do! Yuuri, what do you want to say?"

"Sorry. It's just… I told them a whole lot more than I told you that night and I kind of wanted to do something about that. I mean, we decided to marry on a whim, I wasn't prepared. If I was, I would have planned this from the start, when we stood there. When we did it."

Victor felt a pulse. It wasn't the same, not even similar to the one he'd felt that morning. It had another value. It was warm, comfortable, soothing. Not at all coloured by the yearning, that childish need he'd felt, having Yuuri naked against himself. No, it was love. That unconditional, unending love you feel for someone you've chosen. When mind, body and soul manage to make a decision together and are jubilant about it.

"So," Yuuri continued, "I've wanted to tell you this. Ever since we married, ever since our summer spent in Japan, ever since… today. Because over this period of time, I've started to understand what you mean to me and I… Well, I want you to know this. I need you to."

Victor put one hand against Yuuri's cheek, the pulse was continuing to lull him. Made him feel like he was important. "Oh, love. I think Iㅡ"

Yuuri gave Victor a brief look, playfully stern, before he looked at their hands. It was as if he'd heard Victor's quiet plea, because he found his eyes and stayed there. "I told you to be quiet, Victor. I need to say this, without you interrupting me."

"I'll be quiet. I promise."

"Good. You see, Victor… The first time I saw you was on TV, you'd won Junior Worlds. You were sixteen, I was twelve. I remember that day so well, because, that's when I fell in love with you. I didn't know what it was at the time, how could I possibly being nothing but a boy, but now I know that it was love. A love that only grew, fed by my need to meet you. See you. Stand on the same ice as you.

"I… I was like a small, insignificant rock and you were the sun. I wanted to get close to you somehow, so I filled my room with posters of you. Posters I ripped down when you came to Hasetsu the first time, with you outside my door. I've told you this already, but it still doesn't make it any less embarrassing. Anyway, I… I named my dog, my toy poodle, after you. Victor.  _Vicchan_ , what mom calls you.

"I decided to meet you, one way or the other and I somehow managed to get to the Grand Prix Final through years of training. Instead of loving every second of it, I worried. Worried about not doing good, worried about looking like a fool. More importantly though, I… I worried about meeting you! I worried what you would say to me,  _if_  you would say anything at all! And of course, I couldn't do anything else than publicly shame myself.

"I'm not talking about just the skating. Do you remember? When we met afterwards? You were walking with Yurio and somehow, our eyes met and you asked me if I wanted a  _commemorative photo_? I wanted… I wanted so much more but I just felt so embarrassed. It was like you thought I was a fan rather than competition, you know? Like I was as invisible as I felt."

The only sound that was heard for a while was the Russian commentator on TV, who spoke tirelessly and with enthusiasm despite a young skater's nasty fall.

Victor felt guilty. Slightly ashamed. Out of words after listening to Yuuri's confession. It dawned on him that he'd seen him there, after the competition, but he didn't really  _see_ him until the banquet that followed. Then, he'd taken up his world. Then,  _he_ was the one that had acted like the sun.

Without knowing what else to say, he apologised. "Yuuri… I didn't know you felt that way. I'm sorry." He sighed as he looked into a pair of brown eyes, eyes that had a hard time being on his. "But you know what? I knew you, or knew of you, even before we met at the Grand Prix Final."

Yuuri's eyes widened his expression full of disbelief, his endearing faulty self-esteem shining through.

"It's true, love," Victor continued, "because I saw me in you when you skated back then. The way you moved, your expression. I knew that you were inspired by me and that was flattering, to say the least."

"You… you knew? You knew that I existed? Even before that video going viral?"

"Oh, very much so."

"Oh… I… I didn't know that."

"We keep surprising each other today, it seems," Victor cheerily remarked with a smile, caressing the back of Yuuri's hand.

"I guess… Also, Victor? When you became my coach, I kind of… well, I wanted you to be mine. Only mine. I wanted you to never look at anyone else. I wanted you to be as filled by me as I was with you. That I was everything to you in a way I knew you were to me."

"It happened, love."

"Uh-huh. It did. It really did. And I want it to continue. I… I just want to be with you and I hope that I'm allowed to. I want to be yours, remain yours. I-I just… I just don't know what to say. You are everything to me and I swear I'll try! I'll try to be the same to you!" Yuuri let Victor's hands go, nervously wringing his own. But his eyes were steady, lingering on blue eyes full of emotion. "Victor, I love you. I know that I have a lot to prove but… I kind of… I want to do something for you tonight. Something you'll remember."

 

**~**~**

 

"So," Yuuri started, his voice sounding a bit hesitating, "I was thinking, or, I was going to ask you if there's something you'd like… to do?"

With fingers tensing up, almost seeking to grip the cushions of the sofa, Victor inhaled sharply. It was a lovely proposition. Fantastic, even. He realised he felt like a boy. Like a little boy who'd been dreaming of getting access to things far beyond his reach and now, they were there before him. Offered, as if on a silver platter. Ripe and ready for the taking.

In fact, the things he wanted to do were many, almost uncountable. He knew that if he would ask for something, he'd get it. Especially now, especially with Yuuri being the one taking the first step. Yuuri was like that, a giver. Pliant in bed, often handing over the responsibilities of making decisions. Yuuri was a person who rarely asked and often offered, but Victor loved that about him. The infinite games they've played to find out what Yuuri liked, what turned him on, was a favorite pastime of his.

He saw an array of images before his inner eye, all of the things he could ask for. Positions, games, restrictions… he felt his pulse pick up within seconds. But although how tantalising, how mouth-wetting it was to take total control, he decided to give it away. He wanted to offer it back to the person who wanted him to take it.

"What I'd like to do?" Victor propped himself up on his elbows, his heart beating hard in his chest, almost travelling upwards into his throat. "What if… what if I ask you the same thing? What would you like to do? To me?"

The reaction was wonderful. How Yuuri's cheeks became a little more flushed, how his eyes started to travel, how he shifted a little in his seat. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat with a soft cough. "What… what I'd like to do? Um… Won't that be borㅡ"

"No! No, not at all. I would love it. All of it!"

Yuuri silently removed his glasses and reached for the hem of his sweater, pulling it off in one smooth motion and pushed it off the sofa. His thermal undershirt exposed some of him before it fell back into place, much to Victor's dismay.

"If I'd like to, say, undress you, that would be okay?"

"How cute," Victor laughed. "You're allowed to do whatever and that's what you come up with?"

Yuuri frowned. Victor found it impossible to make out if it was a reaction to what he just had said or if Yuuri got lost in one specific thought, but he hoped it was the latter. He wondered if he'd spoiled the mood, and reached out to touch that small crease between Yuuri's eyebrows. He thought to himself that smoothing it out would maybe make a difference, make his insecurity disappear.

"Yuuri, Iㅡ"

"Let's go. Let's go to the bedroom."

Victor quivered. Due to the words, the sincere tone that delivered them. The promise they left inside him. But at the same time, he wasn't sure. Unable to understand if it was a proposition made to best him, or if it was one that had bearing.

"I was just kidding, Yuuri," he started, secretly wishing for that shaking sensation inside to continue, but realising all the same that it could be forced to stop at any second. Without him wanting it. Carrying that understanding, he groveled. "I didn't meanㅡ"

Yuuri got to his feet and gave Victor a look. A look that tore him down, a look that said more than words ever could. A look that created a sound within Victor, making every fibre of him hum. Finding Yuuri's frequency.

When Yuuri held out his hand, Victor accepted it without a word. The both of them walked silently to the bedroom, but inside, they reverberated in unison.

 

**~**~**

 

Like so many times before, it started out with a kiss. But that was where the similarities stopped. The kiss was new, of a different value. It was a kiss too chaste, too short, too bewildering to lead anywhere. It just got left there, without an explanation as to why it felt the way it did. Like a flutter, a single lone dab, made to confuse. At least in theory.

For Victor relished the new, the different, the unexplored. They had never been able to faze him, not in the context he found himself in now, not in any. Instead of wondering, worrying, he relished the anticipation, feeling that hum grow stronger inside, hearing that lovers' rush in his ears. It was asking him, no,  _begging_  him to relinquish himself, to offer himself to be taken in his hands.

He had hands around his neck, clasped together tight behind his head. Dark eyes seeming even darker in the unlit bedroom. Dark eyes looking into his, reading and evaluating. He had never been able to fully figure them out, the eyes and their owner, even less so during moments like this. When he went against who he was, surprised him with yet another unseen part of that elaborate tapestry that was him. That was Yuuri.

The ruffling sound of their clothes rubbing together when hands found other places to rest upon was booming in Victor's ears. Like a stampede, charging, tearing everything with it. It seemed like that opinion was shared, as hands skimmed along the bared skin at the nape of his neck, along and over his shoulders until they stopped at the hollow between his collarbones. Fingers did what hands couldn't, displayed him even more. Wanting to rid them of the sound, the intrusion to their otherwise silent moment.

Fingers did just that, undid button after button of his shirt until they had to do something else. So, they touched him, leaving behind trails. Smoldering trails that burned his skin.

Victor left the mystery behind the dark eyes for a moment, tilted his head down and saw how the fingertips felt, felt, felt. Maybe they were memorising what it was like, what it entailed to touch him. He realised that he had to look. He needed to remember that too.

Hands and fingers disappeared from his chest and caressed the shirt off his shoulders, off his back. It stayed on him though, the shirt, with his hands still through the cuffs and his arms still in the sleeves. He was thinking of helping. He wanted to escape the feel of fabric, seek another sensation altogether, and started to reach for the buttons of the cuffs.

"Leave them alone."

Lips played against his chest, whispering words that made his insides react. 'Why', Victor wanted to ask, 'What do you want to do?', but he said nothing. Kept his promise of leaving himself in his hands.

"I love you. Everything about you," the lips continued, titillatingly petting his skin. "Always have, always will."

Victor swallowed, taking back the sigh, the moan, that was on the verge of escaping him. Back into his depths it fell, only to erupt again when the cool, slickness of a most inventive tongue drew patterns, made exquisite art on the canvas that was him. He was breathed on, nibbled on, even bit by benevolent teeth. But when he was devoured, slowly suckled by lips that destroyed what a tongue playfully tried to mend, he disgorged a groan. A groan that was him, his essence. A groan that spoke his truth, how guttural and throaty it sounded through his gritted teeth.

"I… I just can't get enough of you." Those lips that spoke had travelled without Victor noticing it, when he was lost in the torrents of heady gratification. They were further down, speaking against the belt of his trousers with teeth assisting.

Reflexively, he brought a hand up. Just the one. The other, caught behind his back by his shirt. His hand moved with devotion, it was summoned, told to find dark strands of hair and hold on to them. And he did hold on when he felt a tug around his waist, his belt being undone with the help of teeth and nothing more.

"You," he panted, "can undress me anytime you like. Oh, Yuuri… That's justㅡ"

"Shh," was the answer he got from below. "Quiet."

Hands undid another button. Undid his fly before they vanished again, suddenly fondling his ass. Victor's fingers dug in, clutched tufts of black hair as he leaned his head back, trying desperately to breathe with an open mouth, silently begging to endure a little bit longer. Ironically, his body acted on its own accord and made him flex at the hip, repeatedly wanting the opposite of his mind whilst trying to coerce what he had in his hand to move closer. Wanting contact, intimacy,  _friction._ But he got none of that.

His trousers were stroked off of him, suddenly pooling at his feet. The hands weren't done, they continued their excursion, leaving no patch of skin unseen, untouched or or unloved. When they started to travel upwards, along his shins, over his knees, on the inside of his thighs, he had to break the vow of silence.

"If you won't fucking blow me, at least put your tongue inside my mou-nghh..." Victor's voice died out as the electricity claimed him, originating from a touch between his legs going back to front.

"Not sure if I want to, that mouth sounds dirty." It was but a whisper, followed by a low laugh. Liberating the both of them in ways undone before.

Scorching fingertips touched his chest, gently pushing him a few steps backwards until he felt the edge of the bed dig in at the back of his knees.

He got his wish. A mouth hungry for his, a tongue colliding with his, a body causing friction against his. It was messy. Intense. Insatiable. Two beings needing exactly the same but one was bound to give, the other to receive. Tables turned, roles switched, a world of breathless contradictions.

As they parted, when twisting tongues and swollen lips decided on an intermission, he was left with an imploration.

"Fall for me."

With a gentle push Victor did, knowing he would never stop.

 

**~**~**

 

The fall seemed like it lasted for an eternity. Like he fell from somewhere else. Somewhere farther, higher up. Victor knew it was impossible, he knew, but the seconds were suspended in time, allowing him to see that face, study it thoroughly, before he came to a sudden stop.

It was him. It was his love, his purpose doing this to him. Rendering him defenseless, useless, wanting more. The same person who usually was pliant, unassertive, begging him to take the lead. But there he was,  _his Yuuri_ , still fully clothed and yet, he'd brought him to the edge so easily.

The need to reach out to touch him echoed inside, telling Victor to do, do, do. Do something, anything, at least claim him as his own. But his arms were restricted by his shirt, the one he now had his weight on behind his back, making him unable to do, do, do.

He saw Yuuri come closer, crawl on all fours. Instead of stopping, interacting, paying him any notice, he leaned over to the bedside table on Victor's side and turned on the light.

It was him, looking gorgeous in the dim light. It really was him, but  _who was he_? The person Victor knew with that appearance preferred having the lights out, wasn't dominating, wasn't exhibitionsitic. He was new, new to them both but someone worth getting to know. He was different. Unexplored. Made for relishing.

"Stay where you are. Don't move."

He could only watch as Yuuri started to undress, starting with the undershirt, then the jeans. The way his body moved… It was made for making music, muscles contracting, flexing, moving underneath that thin layer of skin. A corporeal symphony, playing just for him.

There was no air left for Victor to breathe. Yuuri's hands were invisible, hidden by the fabric of his underwear, but there were no doubts what was playing out. Right in front of him, but still in hiding.

Yuuri was touching himself. He was somewhere else now with eyes closed and lower lip in between his teeth. Somewhere where he was building himself up. Trying to catch that wave, trying to bring himself closer. Trying to match, tap in.

"Yuuri," he whined, trying to overcome the aching throb in his chest and between his legs. "Show me. You're killing me!"

He felt pierced by his eyes. They flung open, stuck on his within the second. Yuuri's expression looked like he was judging him silently, like he'd been forced to stop pleasuring himself by his words.

Without a word, Yuuri leaned over again, opening the drawer in the bedside table.

An instant rush, a flash of uncontrollable need. Like an electrical shock taking him over, making him short circuit. He knew what it meant. The gesture, the drawer. The things being reached for.

"You… " Victor began, breathlessly. "You want me toㅡ"

"No. But I'm going to fuck you."

With those words came an ethereal dream. One that was new, different, unexplored. One where Victor felt like a voyeur, watching something that wasn't for him. Watching somebody unknown, a stranger undoing him without even a single touch.

With arms and hands restricted, he couldn't do anything than reach Yuuri's thighs with his fingertips, building that illusion of him not being there, not partaking in the music being created.

Yuuri fought, acting as a lone conductor. Building himself, finding the right state of mind, the relaxation, the trust in himself. Doing it on his own, not inviting Victor to join him.

"Now, now, I just…" Yuuri's quivering whisper was drowned by the noise his touch evoked, by the incredible sound the wave made as it came to crash over them both.

It was happening, the new, the different, the unexplored, making Victor cry out as he was set free, violently and with an urgency that made seams protest by making noise. Yuuri took him in his hand, in his mouth, in his hand, finally inviting him on the journey he previously had taken alone. The constraint, the cool, the slick, and finally, the enveloping tightness followed as Yuuri started to move, got lost in a rhythm Victor wanted to follow.

"I want to touch you," Victor moaned, his fingers trying to reach, fingernails scraping against Yuuri's skin.

"Y-you are. Just move, mo-ahhn…"

They were in-tune, heading towards the inevitable crescendo. Although they created music, followed a rhythm, nothing was heard other than strained breaths and the low and dull sound of flesh colliding with flesh. A requiem if there ever was one.

That still contained explosion was pressing, building in Victor's abdomen, threatening to detonate. Victor was there, ready. Standing on the ledge, waiting for the final push, the ne plus ultra that would engulf him and let him come alive, reborn through the flames of his rapture. "Yuu… I-I'm getting… I'm close, anytime, Iㅡ"

"Haah… more, little, just… Vi… Vi-Vityaahh!"

Even though the music subsided, softly and slowly, they ended up listening to a beat. The beat of two hearts slowing down, coming together, finding a new pulse to follow.

 

**~**~**

 

"Yuuri? Are you awake?" Victor mouthed the words, almost inaudibly into Yuuri's hair.

"Mhm… " It was a delayed response, slow and languid.

Victor put his arm around Yuuri's waist, pulled him closer against himself. "Good. First of all, thank you. Thank you for today, love."

"No need to thank me. It's your birthday, and birthdaysㅡ"

"ㅡtrump Christmas, I know." He paused. Wondering if he needed to pose the question, wondering if an answer would mean anything, any kind of difference. "Who… who were you today? Hm?"

"Who… Who I was? I don't know. I… I guess I wanted to surprise you. Offer you something you won't forget and… I guess that was me. Someone I don't really know, just yet."

"You know what? I would love to get to know you more. That side of you too, that was… that was hot, okay? I still can't believe that just happened."

Yuuri laughed. It sounded like he shared Victor's take on their evening. That something special had taken place between them, made by them, just for them.

For a while, they just breathed. Listened to slow inhales, slower exhales and even slower heartbeats.

"You know… Victor?"

"Mmm?"

"I've… I've been thinking. A lot. About a lot of things."

"Mhm...?" Victor was coming down, ever so slowly. Visiting the borderlands of being awake and drifting off, and really wanting Yuuri to do the same.

"Yeah. About what… what has happened and what will, I guess. And I've decided on something, or… no, not decided, I wanted to see what you…" He sighed. A long, slow sigh, before he continued, carrying something in his voice. Something new. Something different. Something unexplored. "I just wanted to see what you would think about, um… me choosing toㅡ"

"Love, is this something that we can talk about in the morning?"

"No. It's… it's not. You see, I… I want… I want to keep your things, Victor. And I would like to keep Makka. Afterwards."

Victor listened to the words. Felt them inside him as he tried to understand. It grew, the understanding. That the ball had ended, the slipper was lost. But not only that, he understood something else, too. That it was time. That he could, finally, and… that it was okay.

He turned away, left the warmth against his chest and rolled over to his back instead.  _It's okay? It's okay? It is. I can. But I don't want_ ㅡ

He put his arm over his face, feeling himself tense up. Feeling that small speck inside him, the one that had been patiently waiting, to take him by the throat, feed on him and grow stronger. Bigger. It wasn't okay, it wasn't okay at all. But it happened.

It sounded like a hiccup, the way the tension seeped out from within him. He tried to fight it, tried not to make it awkward for the both of them, but tears burned, pooled, escaped.

"Victor? What do you think?"

He sniffed, feeling Yuuri turning around next to him.

He whimpered, feeling Yuuri's hand on his shoulder.

When he felt Yuuri, on top, around and against himself, his arms tightening around him, his kisses on the arm covering his face, he let go. Let go of his ambitions of carrying them, let go of his obsession of being strong, let go of chasing normal. His voice was something he didn't recognise. Something new, something different, something unexplored.

He wailed, feeling Yuuri catch him as he fell.


	45. Year One: Winter, part sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Song mentioned; _'Amazed'_ , performed by Lonestar. © Marv Green, Chris Lindsey, Aimee Mayo, BMG International**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

 

The day that followed could only be described as subdued. Different by their standards.

Even before Yuuri opened his eyes, he felt a shift in energy. It felt thick. Smothering, almost. Like something on the outside wanted to get in. It was unusual to him, knowing how his mind and emotions worked. How he usually felt that sensation inside.

He reached out to his left, and felt Victor's back against his fingertips. He felt surprised. Surprised by finding Victor still in bed, as far to the edge of the bed as he could possibly be. Also, surprised because he knew that Victor was awake, his breathing wasn't as deep, not as calm as when he slept, and still he'd made a choice to keep away.

"Good morning," Yuuri said, his voice a bit raspy from his silence throughout the night. "How… how are you?"

"I'm fine, love. Thank you for yesterday it… it was great. I'm so lucky to have you, you know?"

Yuuri immediately felt guilty hearing Victor's voice, low and muffled like he was speaking into the pillow. Even though he said things, all the right things, he sounded dejected. Like yesterday's good had been washed away by something, still undisclosed. Something Yuuri felt he probably was responsible for.

Yuuri made the decision to get closer, felt Victor's ribs underneath his skin as he trailed his fingers along Victor's back and side. Yuuri wanted to say something, wanted to make Victor prove him wrong. He wanted to hear that Victor's mood wasn't because of him, somehow, but became insecure. Like always when being insecure, Yuuri's mind started to find other things to focus on. Things as far away from the subject as possible.

"You know, I… I'm supposed to meet Yakov today. At the rink. He and Yurio got back late last night."

"I know." The answer sounded exactly the same as the previous one. Dejected. Hollow. Defeated. So different from what he knew Victor to be.

"O-okay. So… do you want to come?"

"No, honey. I'll stay home."

Yuuri paused. He wasn't sure if Victor's answers sounded the way they did to make him stop talking or maybe even invite him to talk more. Ask more? So he did ask, questions he desperately wanted Victor to say yes to. "Want to shower with me? Eat breakfast, maybe?"

"No, I… I'm fine. You go on, okay?"

Without hesitation, he moved closer, as close as he possibly could, and embraced Victor with arms and legs, sighing against his shoulder. Images of their last moments together during the previous night invited themselves, picked at his mind and made him relive them. How they ended up in the bedroom, how he had undressed Victor, worshipped him and… his cheeks heated up a bit, thinking about how different he'd been, how he had taken control, how he had brought Victor to the edge and somehow managed to make them both leap off it together. He almost wanted to make a sound matching the feeling inside but put his lips against Victor's shoulder instead, smothering the noise of embarrassment and arousal with a kiss.

And then, Yuuri remembered. The question he finally answered, way overdue, the reaction he got in return. He didn't understand it, why Victor had tried to hide himself behind an arm. Why Victor had cried, screamed himself to sleep, with restless fingers digging into his back until they eased up as exhaustion did what could've been seen as a blessing. Why it felt like something had changed between them, that feeling still very palpable.

Somehow, he thought Victor would have been relieved, happy even, to hear him say what he did. That's what Victor had been asking for, after all? For him to open up, to acknowledge him. To stop… stop being so selfish. But the reaction was too intense, too raw, too distraught for it to be relief. To Yuuri, that was a mystery. What hid behind Victor's reaction, and what to do with it now that it had been left with him? Inside him? It felt like neither of them wanted to open that box, neither of them wanted to uncover the truth. With him being hesitant and nervous and Victor being… different.

How much he wanted it to be different, Yuuri concluded that Victor's change was because of him, his timing, his choice of words. There was just no other possible way of looking at it. And he carried that understanding with him.

Although he tried hard to ignore it, Yuuri went off to practise with a heart that screamed at him, blamed him. A heart that got him entirely convinced that he had made irreparable damage. A heart wishing for something else, the way it once was. Even though he was unfocused, thoughts constantly straying back to the one he had left at home, he played it off. Maybe even convincing himself more than Yakov after countless repetitions that 'everything's fine' and that he was 'just a bit tired'. He noticed the look, the wrinkled forehead. The words filling up Yakov's mouth but strangely enough stayed there. Seemed like a lot of people did things he wasn't used to them doing that day.

When he came home, early in the afternoon, Victor was still in bed. On his stomach, just like when Yuuri left. Victor was clothed, a sign that he'd been up at least. Yuuri found himself at a loss. For words, for what to do. This was unlike the Victor he knew, the resilient one, the one who always let things run off him like water on a goose. The one with quick retorts, a blinding smile and a warmth that could thaw anything, anyone. Even him, when he was at his worst. He realised he didn't know what to expect. How to meet this Victor, one so different from yesterday. If he even dared to.

"I'm home," Yuuri said hesitantly, peering into the bedroom. "Um… do you want anything?"

"I'm fine, love. Thanks." A low voice, not at all was he was used to hear when stepping through the door. Not at all cheery, not managing to make him feel like the centre of the world. Also, the answer was delayed, almost sounding out of place due to the unnatural pause between it and the question.

"Okay," Yuuri replied, trying to evoke a change in himself, in Victor, by sounding like he had received his usual cheery greeting. "Have you been out with Makka?"

"...mhm."

"So…" His chest hurt, he realised. Just by seeing him. By hearing him. By unwillingly fitting him into a million different scenarios where  _this_ Victor would be the one remembered as the person Victor really… was.

Yuuri walked over to the bed and put his hand on Victor's back. Strange how he looked the same. Felt the same. But something had shifted in him, there was no denying that. It was the same feeling Yuuri had picked up on in the morning, the same shift in mood, energy or how to possibly label it. It was something that they would have to address, something Yuuri felt he didn't want to do, something that would make himself panic and Victorㅡ

"I'm thinking of making dinner, are you hungry? Have you eaten?" Yuuri shivered when he heard his own words. Like yesterday's good really had been washed away, his confidence faltering exponentially. Reverting back to what it always had been.  _Failing._ Not only himself, but others as well. Why? Why now when he'd been so bold not even a day before? Why… was it always like that?

"Not really. I'll eat, though."

"Is it okay if I go start? Please join me if you want to, Victor. I… I kind of want you to."

Victor nodded. Or shrugged, it was hard to tell, but Yuuri left him with a kiss on the head and pretended not to hear the downhearted sigh. Although every part his body reacted to it en masse.

* * *

Victor felt dizzy, weak from spending almost all day in bed. Strangely, that had felt like the only reasonable thing to do. The only thing he  _could_  do. He tried to remember if he'd ever felt so empty, so spent and came to the conclusion that he might have a few times before, his memories were slightly fuzzy when he tried to recall them, but due to other reasons entirely.

With a sigh, he sat up, feeling his heart beat slightly faster. He didn't understand why it felt the same, still. Why there was more wanting to claw its way out of him. He wanted it to be enough, he feared what would happen if he had to go through yet another… yeah, what  _was_  that? An outburst? No, definitely too tame. A breakdown? Slightly more apt, but not the whole truth.

He got to his feet and walked out of the bedroom. He heard Yuuri make noises in the kitchen, feeling a debilitating wave of guilt crash over him. He had been selfish. Yuuri had done everything in his power to make the day before, his  _thirtieth_ birthday, all he could ever ask, hope and pray for it to be. Normal. So perfectly normal. And yet, he had sullied it by making it uncomfortable for the both of them. By lowering his guard, by thinking it was okay. That it would make a difference to finallyㅡ

_A realisation._  Yes, that is what it was, his reaction. He understood it as he stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the basin, feeling his breathing pick up, his heart hurting with every beat.  _A realisation of what? No, I know, I know, I know. I don't want to, but I know. Leave it. Leave it, just forget!_

He sniffed, keeping his head low, knuckles whitening from holding on, desperately needing something to ground him.

"Victor?"

He heard Yuuri's voice, his feet against the floor. He was begging wordlessly for Yuuri to come closer, for Yuuri to be what he needed him to. His whole body reacted to his presence, but at the same time, he wanted him to keep his distance. They didn't need an encore. He wasn't certain that they could live through it again.

"Oh, you're up. Good, Iㅡ"

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Not again. Please come. Not so close, but closer, please, please, please._

He felt Yuuri's chest against his back, feeling an urge to sigh but he fought it. Afraid of what it would spark. The arms around his body tightened. Yuuri's voice broke through his shirt, left a heat in its wake against his back. It was like Yuuri knew, the way his actions spoke. So subtle, so low-key. So tentative. Like he understood. Like he really understood.

"You… you weren't really… done, huh? I sensed it this morning, I… I just didn't know how to… Victor, I…"

It began with that repressed sigh, that lone convulsion, one that spread. One that multiplied into another, another, another. Countless they were when he felt his knees give out, when he managed to take the few steps and sit down on the toilet. When he felt Yuuri close, arms supporting him, hands holding on.

"Victor, it's… it's okay. You can. If you want to. I-I'm here."

He felt Yuuri's stomach against his forehead, acting as support. Making him sit upright, even though he didn't want to. He wanted to melt, to cease, to end. But he leaned in, leaned against him, gripped whatever he could find. Not thinking twice if it was fabric or flesh. He could probably fight it a little longer. If he held on.

Yuuri's hands ran across him, frightened and uneasy. Not resting long on him, constantly moving. Like staying put would make him get caught up in something he wanted to avoid. His voice sounded the same when he eventually spoke. Frightened. Uneasy. Afraid to get caught. "Have I done something wrong? I just… I thought that you were, no, that you  _wanted_ to hear that. Victor? Is this… is this because of what I said?"

It felt like a lightning strike, those words of his. How they impaired him, made him understand so much and still, not enough. He needed to make Yuuri free from guilt, he realised. He deserved that much, instead of blaming himself of something that couldn't be more wrong.

"N-no, it's not, not be-because…" The words came out broken, chopped up due to his sobs, his desperate tries to draw breath. The panic that started to build, because it was coming.

"Th… th-then what?"

_I realised something. That's all._

"Victor?"

_I don't want to tell you._

"Vi…  _Vitya_ , please… "

_But you need to know, right?_  "Yuu… I…"

Victor raised his head, found brown eyes looking down at him from above through his own blur, continuously refilling after blinking it away. He imagined that this must have been what Yuuri had felt all those times he'd been pushing him, wanting and waiting for him to meet him. How torn Yuuri must have been, how conflicted and cornered he must have felt. Exactly the same as him.

Victor took a breath, and let it out. With it came his worry, riding his exhale. Just a simple thing but still so profound. "I w-won't even be able to mi-miss you! Iㅡ"

He got interrupted. By hands finding his face, by sobs accompanying his. By a kiss that shared his desperation, his sadness, his newly found realisation. A kiss that multiplied into another, another, another.

"I... I kn-know, I know that, Vi-Victor. But you kn-know what?"

Yuuri's tears were hitting his face, marking him as he shook his head.

"I'll… mi-miss us. Un-until my life is th-through. I will. I will. I will never fo-forget."

When Yuuri sank down on his lap, he welcomed him. When Yuuri's hands found his head, he buried his face against his chest. Victor wanted him closer, adamant on inhaling him, his scent, his spirit. Making a million crucial memories by just touching and breathing.

They rose and they fell. Feeding off each other, keeping the same pace. Allowed themselves to mourn, allowed themselves to understand, allowed themselves to feel. Allowed themselves to be the only people in the world that mattered, in that little moment in time.

When they finally landed, when their feet were back on solid ground with hearts still beating hard but touches softening, Yuuri whispered into his ear. His voice wasn't strong, nor was it stable, but it sounded convincing. Mending. Like he knew. Like he really knew.

"Tomorrow will be different. I promise."

* * *

Yuuri had spoken the truth. They felt something else the next day, when they woke up together entwined. When everything hot and flaring had simmered down, transformed into something even more incomprehensible. Something resembling a calm, of all things. Sometimes, a moment governed by disabling highs and excruciating lows can do that. Infuse its reluctant participants with a stillness, if only temporarily.

Victor relished the point in time, the few seconds just after waking up, when he actually felt a difference inside. Imbibing him with reassurance, if anything. He peered down at Yuuri, warmed up inside by how he was silently blinking sleep out of his eyes, how his yawn broke the silence between them.

"Hey, you," he whispered into his hair. Not really sure if they were supposed to talk already. Not really sure if adding any sounds to their bedroom was the right thing to do.

"Hey." The reply was followed by a kiss on his chest, brown eyes looking up at him and then to the side. "Let go, I need to check my phone."

Victor untangled himself from Yuuri, and watched as he wiggled his way across the mattress, closer to his bedside table.

The sound of the phone hitting the floor, the low expletive in Japanese and, naturally, the perfect view that followed when Yuuri reached down and pawed around to retrieve it made Victor hum appreciatively, much to his own surprise.  _It really feels different today._

He waited for Yuuri to check the phone, a slight warmth spreading out inside when he saw how close to his face Yuuri had to hold his phone to see properly. With just a few flicks of his thumb, Yuuri seemed content and put it away. Victor welcomed him back to his side with a smile, and made sure to tangle himself up anew.

"Can't we stay like this today?" Victor posed the question maybe more to himself than to Yuuri, tightening himself around him.

"For a while, at least," Yuuri responded, tensing up as soon as the words escaped his lips.

"Hm? What's this? You've got plans, love?"

"I… no, I don't. Really. None at all."

If Victor had payed attention, he would have heard the hesitation, but he didn't. He was busy making plans of his own, plans he couldn't wait to involve Yuuri in. Plans that needed an accomplice. "Good. I was kind of hoping you would ask me again, you know," he said in a mischievous voice.

"Ask you what?"

"If I want a shower and breakfast."

Yuuri cooed and kissed Victors jaw, before nuzzling in with a content sigh. "I'll ask you," he said, his voice muffled against Victor's neck, "but only if you promise me one thing today."

"Anything," Victor replied, tugging at a dark strand of hair whilst feeling lips move against his skin.

"Can't we at least clean a little? Like, the livingroom and kitchen at least?"

Victor laughed, surprised by the question asked, feeling himself react to the pretended fine print of their would-be agreement. "If that's what is going to take to make you happy, then sure!"

"Then… want a shower and breakfast,  _old man_?" Yuuri's eyes were full of something playful, relaxed andㅡ

"I want you for breakfast in the shower,  _little boy_."

 

**~**~**

 

They kept their promises to each other by making a much needed mess, cleaning themselves up and finally, letting their flat meet the same fate.

Seeing Yuuri across the open space, meticulously wiping down the countertops, the stove and the cupboards in the kitchen, made Victor compelled to join him. Even though he'd been banished to continue with mopping the living room floor time and time again with a gentle push against his cheek and a warm smile acting as a sendoff, he just couldn't keep away.

"Victor, come on," Yuuri scolded in a voice too hushed to be taken seriously whilst trying to continue his chore, "do your part, okay? We'll never get done if you keep doing this."

"But I like doing this," he replied, his hands automatically finding their way around Yuuri and ending up in the front pockets of his jeans. He pretended not to hear the sigh of feigned frustration Yuuri let out, and rubbed his nose against the side of Yuuri's neck. The sigh that followed was something else, delivered not out of frustration but out of contentment instead.

"No, Victor… don't."

"Hm? You like that I'm doing this. You're just full of mixed messages today," he mumbled, playfully tasting whatever he could reach. He ended up nibbling at the lobe of Yuuri's ear due to Yuuri trying shrug his lips away from his neck with low giggles setting the tone.

Victor couldn't hold back his smile when Yuuri dropped his cloth in the sink and turned around to face him. He loved the games they played. To him, Yuuri was especially attractive when he pretended to be stern, annoyed or admonishing, that little becoming frown not at all convincing. The almost invisible twitches in the corners of his mouth making his efforts moot.

"Am I going to get it now?" Victor tried to sound concerned but his widening smile made it difficult for him to stick to that tone of voice.

"You really are hopeless," Yuuri retorted with a laugh and locked his hands behind Victor's neck. "What can I do to make you finish what you're supposed to?"

Victor loved questions like that. They opened up for endless possibilities, made his mind race his heart without delay. But even though he could think of endless ideas matching the endless possibilities, he settled for something else. Something that was more in-tune with the situation.

He kissed Yuuri's nose and posed his question. "Can we put on some music?"

Yuuri nodded and unlaced his hands from behind Victor's neck, sending him off with another playful push to his cheek. Victor took the few steps needed to reach the wireless speaker on the kitchen island and turned it on.

"Any requests?" He shot a glance at Yuuri, who scrambled to put his phone back into his pocket with a somewhat guilty stare.

"Um, uh, no! You choose!"

"Fine, no complaining then."

Victor opened his playlist, adamant on trying to find something that would match what was going on inside. The muted blip of Yuuri's phone made him look up again, just for a second, before continuing with scrolling through the playlist. "Are you hiding something from me, Yuuri?"

"I, uhㅡ"

"Oh-hoh,  _really_ now?" Victor couldn't hide his smile, thoroughly enjoying the little game for two. "In that case… I have the [perfect song](https://youtu.be/x-skFgrV59A) in mind."

 

_Every time our eyes meet_

_This feeling inside me_

_Is almost more than I can take_

 

"Come." Victor reached out with his hand, offering it for Yuuri to take. "Dance with me."

Victor waited for Yuuri to close the distance between them. He did, by taking his hand without a word but with eyes saying so much more, placing the other on his shoulder. Victor felt a tingle inside by the touch, by the way Yuuri's fingers felt through his sweater, and placed his free hand on the small of Yuuri's back. Then, he took the lead in a too slow and too close a dance.

 

_Baby, when you touch me_

_I can feel how much you love me_

_And it just blows me away_

 

"Yuuri?"

 

_I've never been this close to anyone or anything_

_I can hear your thoughts, I can see your dreams_

 

"Yes?"

" _I don't know how you do what you do, I'm so in love with you. It just keeps getting better. I want to spend the rest of my life, with you by my side. Forever and ever._ Hey, you're blushing!"

 

_Every little thing that you do_

 

" _Baby, I'm amazed by you._ "

He glanced down at Yuuri, who seemed to wage a battle between wanting to meet his gaze and hiding his face, being flushed and embarrassed. Yuuri ended up leaning in a bit more than he had to, and turned his head away before resting it against Victor's shoulder.

"Must you sing, though," Yuuri whispered.

"It's all on you. You inspire me today." Victor sighed contently whilst tightening his grip around Yuuri's waist, maneuvering the both of them around in a fluid turn before settling into the same frame, finding the same slow pace from before.

 

_The smell of your skin_

_The taste of your kiss_

_The way you whisper in the dark_

 

"Let me have a little taste, love."

Yuuri obliged, soft and pliant at first only to tense up by the vibration in his pocket.

 

_Your hair all around me_

_Baby, you surround me_

_Touch every place in my heart_

 

"What's going on with your phone, hm? You've been looking at it all day. I've seen you, you know."

 

_And it feels like the first time every time_

_I want to spend the whole night in your eyes_

 

"I…" Yuuri started, eyes flickering.

 

_I don't know how you do what you do_

_I'm so in love with you_

_It just keeps getting better_

 

"It's a surprise, okay? For your birthday, but it was impossible getting, um, it in time. It's on its way now. Iㅡ" The phone buzzed again, and Yuuri looked up at him with a guilty look.

 

_I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side_

_Forever and ever_

 

"I kind of, um… I need to check… I'm sorry," Yuuri excused as he wriggled out of Victor's grip, fishing up the phone in the process.

 

_Every little thing that you do_

_Baby, I'm amazed by you_

 

"Are you messaging someone?" Victor noticed Makkachin trotting towards the front door, but not thinking about the reasons as to why.

 

_Every little thing that you do_

_I'm so in love with you_

_It just keeps getting better_

 

"I might," Yuuri replied with a smile and put his phone back into his pocket. "Will you get the door?"

"The door?"

 

_I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side_

_Forever and ever_

 

The doorbell rang as on cue, making Makkachin dance around in anticipation.

Victor gave Yuuri a puzzled look before walking towards the door, not really making it to grab the handle before the door swung open.

 

_Every little thing that you do, oh_

_Every little thing that you do_

 

"Special delivery to coach Victor," a voice sounded over the dying music. "Finally."

 

_Baby, I'm amazed by you_

 

**~**~**

 

It felt perfectly orchestrated. The way the last notes of the music disappeared into the air along with the lyrics. How Yuuri took a couple of steps closer to see what would happen. How the guest came through the door, barely managing to drop his bag and kick off his shoes in the process.

The moment lasted a second, maybe two, with the silence acting as its own dramatic narrative before Yuuri finally spoke.

"Happy belated birthday, Victor. I… I hope this is a gift you'd like to accept. From the both of us."

Victor blinked. He tried to take in what was happening before him. Tried to understand what the cloak and dagger operation that had taken place during the morning had culminated into. Tried to sort out why he felt moved, loved and afraid at the same time.

He got caught in an embrace, one that made him stagger, lose his breath. He was too surprised to reciprocate. Hands found the sides of his face, slightly forceful in holding it in place. The fingers that dug into his skin actually hurt a bit, but the sting was numbed by the eyes looking into his. Eyes demanding his to do the same.

" _I… what the fuck! You… you look better than what I was expecting but… god, still… still not… Victor, you look like shit. You… fuck! Fuck, you really are_ ㅡ"

Victor put his hands over the ones that were holding his head in place. They felt real. The green eyes he was looking into also seemed to actually be there. He reached out, held on to a cheek, a fistful of hair. It was real, and the understanding what that meant made him react.

He was happy. He really was. The overwhelming joy brought with it a relief, the shackles of tension shattering. He'd been afraid, fearful of so many things and now, there was no need to worry. About him, about them, about everything they'd shared. They had time now and also, an opportunity to leave nothing unsaid.

Victor closed his eyes and put his forehead against his guest's. The sigh they both shared made him understand that they shared that relief too.

" _I've missed you Victor. So much."_

The voice sounded shaky, full of emotion now allowed to shine through. The body it came from vibrated, Victor could tell as much without having to look. The way it shook against him, underneath his hands made a thought, born a few weeks earlier in Hasetsu, so perfectly clear. It was time to prepare, to get ready to close some chapters in life.

"In English. English, Chris. Yuuri stillㅡ"

"Yuuri?"

"Yes, Chris?"

"Can I kiss your man?"

Victor heard a laugh, Yuuri's tell-tale laugh when he'd been taken off guard. The answer was immediate, though, full of something that sounded like a confident pride, brimful on the verge of spilling over. "Yes. Yes, you can."

" _Coach Victor,"_  Chris whispered, " _at least open your eyes for this."_

In a way, it was comforting not to see. Comforting to stay in a darkened reality where other people's feelings couldn't get through as easily. But at the same time, he understood that he needed to tackle such reactions head-on. They would never stop crossing his path and eventually, it would end up impossible to hide.

With a laugh or a sniff, Victor wasn't really sure, he opened his eyes. Meeting eyes, not at all aqueous but rather warm and respecting, made him relax.

The kiss was amicable, despite being placed on the lips. Too short to be romantic, too soft to be suggestive. But it felt warm, somewhat joyous. Carrying years and years of memories with it.

The kiss that followed, the one placed on his forehead, was exactly the opposite. Instead of letting it show, instead of acknowledging it even though they knew, they hid behind an embrace until it became still inside.


	46. Year One: Winter, part seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

They had been holding on to each other for a while, before they had to let go. Gradually, like letting go was a whisper of never being able to again. Reluctantly, arms loosened around shoulders. Slowly, fingers lost their grip. And finally, a step back, letting bewildered eyes find solace in another pair just as dazed. There they were, sharing nothing but small huffs in between them as they stood to take each other in.

Victor noticed the reaction in Chris as his eyes were on him, much to his regret. The gaze that flickered slightly, the tense posture, the stifled need to dive back into the embrace… even so, he chose to remain silent. Chris' initial words to him were more than enough to make him understand how he was perceived. He didn't need to hear anything revised, anything sugarcoated or sentimental, not after that display. That's not how they were with each other, making excuses and taking back things already said, and Victor knew that. He respected that.

Fact was, those words had come from a unfiltered place, from a place inside his best friend where his emotions had gotten the upper hand. They spoke the truth, those words of his, and even though hearing them and understanding the meaning of them hurt, he could appreciate them. Because they came from someone who mattered. Someone who knew a little too much about him to even start with the pretending.

"Excuse me." Yuuri's voice was tentative, like he asked for forgiveness for intruding on something he could never fully be a part of. "I've made some coffee so, please, come and sit."

Although it didn't hurt, it was still painful to take his eyes away from his friend. It shouldn't be, reunions never should be about pain, but that didn't apply to them. Not now, not in that contextual nightmare. But he had to look away, if only to acknowledge his love.

"Thank you, honey," Victor smiled, trying to sound unfazed and happier in a way that was all about him wishing that he was.

Walking towards the kitchen island and the steaming cups on the marble surface, he enveloped Yuuri's hand and gave it a soft squeeze. He got smile in return. A genuine one, one that conveyed everything between love and a sense of accomplishment.

"To think that you've managed to keep it a secret, I'm impressed," he said, content with his voice sounding they way he wanted it to. Collected. Light. Thankful.

"Me coming here was his idea," Chris nodded towards Yuuri, taking a small sip of coffee. "We talked about it before, remember? That we would meet when you had a break, but the opportunity never came. Or the invite."

Victor chuckled despite the sting, although the playfulness behind Chris' words was apparent. He would have to talk about it with him, he figured. Not only that, about… well, everything. Everything that once was, everything that was to come.

"Hey, how long are you here for?" Victor made sure that the question sounded flippant, hiding his somewhat ambiguous smile behind his cup. He had started to wish for certain things to last forever, more than ever before. Chris coming to visit had made that list almost immediately. Victor couldn't help but thinking about when they were to part, and what that would mean. Really mean.

"Kicking me out already? Victor Nikiforov, the king of hospitality!" Chris turned to Yuuri, who was joining them with a cup of coffee of his own. "Seriously, how do you _stand_ that guy?"

Victor leaned into Yuuri's touch on his cheek. As Yuuri sat down next to him, Victor brought his wrist to his lips and spoke softly against Yuuri's pulse. "Yeah, how do you stand me, Yuuri?"

"I… I love you, that's all. I don't think you can ever change that."

"Aw," Chris said, propping his chin up with his hand, "you two. Look at you."

"This is why I wanted you to clean the living room," Yuuri said with ears slightly pink, changing the subject.

"I see that now, love. I'll do it, don't worry."

"No, you… you should just… I'll do it. Maybe you two can go out for a while? With the dog?"

"You're not tired, Chris?" Victor glanced at his friend from across the kitchen island.

"No, I'm fine," Chris replied. "Just let me have this coffee and I'll be ready for anything you could possibly want me to do."

"That's okay with you, Yuuri?"

"It's fine. Take your time."

The three of them sat silent for a while, sipping their coffee and not doing much else than sharing an occasional look, a brief smile. The way they could share a silence without feeling any kind of urge to fill it up with words or actions, made Victor feel thankful. That kind of unspoken communication was a badge of honor, a token of trust going both ways, in any kind of relationship. And now, he was surrounded by two of the most important, if not _the_ most important, people in his life.

But to get somewhere, and Victor knew where he wanted to end up, words were needed. "So, Chris," he started, "shall we go out for a walk?"

Chris nodded and emptied his cup. "Do you guys need anything? Should we shop for dinner?"

"No, we're all set," Yuuri replied, his eyes following Victor as he took the cups over to the sink. "Just take Makka out and I'll clean up."

"Okay, honey?" Victor walked up to Yuuri and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Uh-huh. Go, be with him. I want you to."

"I love you, Yuuri. You know, the song got it right."

"Hm?"

"I'm amazed by you. I mean it."

"Go," Yuuri smiled, sending him off with a push against his cheek. "You're embarrassing me."

 

**~**~**

**  
**

The troika exited the building, with Makkachin taking the lead down the stairs outside. It was raw outside, the air carrying that special kind of cold that could only be found in cities close to water. A cold almost impossible to ward off, even if properly dressed. The both of them, the two legged ones, shuddered.

"Shit, it's cold," Chris yelped in French, rubbing his arms with his hands. "When was the last time I was here? Four, no, five years ago?"

"Has it been that long already? Huh. Yeah, it was after the Euros, wasn't it?"

"The fun we had. I didn't really expect you to remember, all things considering, but seems like you do."

"I do."

They stopped briefly at a lamppost, waiting for Makkachin to relieve himself.

"Hey, Chris. Thanks for this."

"No need. I've been wanting to see you for so long. When Yuuri asked, it was a no-brainer."

Victor chuckled, feeling the adoration for his husband spread out underneath his skin. Suddenly, he didn't feel as cold.

"So," Chris continued with _that_ tone of voice. "How was your birthday?"

"It wasㅡ"

"More importantly, what did you _get_?"

The laugh just came out, bubbling and impossible to tether. Of course he would ask that, of course he was dying to know, but Victor just replied with a wink and a tap to his lips.

"That good, huh," Chris replied. "I'm glad."

"It's not about stuff anymore."

"Yeah. I… I can imagine. Victor, how are you, though? You, Yuuri? How do youㅡ"

"Live?" Victor gave the leash a light tug, preventing Makkachin from picking up something off the ground. The poodle started to trot again with his head down, his nose making small patterns in the snow.

"Yeah. How do you live when you know that you're going to die?"

That was the Christophe Giacometti Victor knew and loved. The person who never believed in ever sugarcoating anything. The person who always was upfront. Blunt, some would say, if they ever got past his faiblesse for sexual innuendo. That was why they'd always gotten along, for things never remained unsaid between them. Always delivered with a mix of brutal honesty, tough love and unending respect.

"I don't know… How do _you_ do it?"

Chris let out a little laugh. "Touché. It's a path we're all travelling on, isn't it? Although we pretend not to."

"Yes. But, to answer your question; We're… we're okay."

"For now?"

"For now."

They followed Makkachin around a corner before the conversation continued.

"The last few weeks, months, have been horrible, Chris. Yuuri, he's… it's been hard for him. He's come to terms with things, somewhat at least, but it destroyed him."

Victor sighed when he felt Chris' arm around his shoulders.

"That explains a lot, not only the Grand Prix Final. I'm sorry, Victor. And you? How are _you_?"

"I don't know. Or, I'm good, health-wise. It's not back yet, the cancer."

The arm around his shoulders tightened a bit, the hand resting on him gripped a little harder.

"But it will be?" Chris posed the question almost matter of factly, instead of turning to meaningless and cheerful interjections.

"It's just a matter of time. When, who the hell knows." He paused, watched his breath turn to mist for a few exhales before he continued. "I'm… no, I'm not good Chris. I've started to feel weak. Terrified. I don't want him to see that, I want him toㅡ"

"Let him. You need to allow him to. You need to allow yourself to." Chris' voice turned low. Saddened. "I've been thinking about what I would say, what I would do when I saw you, Victor. Even though you look better than what I expected I… shit. Seeing it, seeing what it does to you, seeing _you_ , makes it real. Knowing is one thing, but understanding that it is real, makes it so much worse."

Victor felt Chris' arm disappear from his shoulders, but they kept walking.

"But," Chris continued, his voice slightly trembling, "I needed that. And I think Yuuri needs that. You need that. Thing is, Victor… even though I've known you for years, I just realised one thing. You've always immersed yourself in things to prevent yourself from feeling. I don't care how much you want to do things for Yuuri, you need to do things that matter. _To you_."

"What do I do if it hurts him? Time shouldn't be spent that way. Not when it's limited already."

"Trust him, Victor. You need to let go of your control, let him in. Yuuri, he's… he's not as fragile as you think."

Victor grabbed Chris by the arm and made him stop. "I still don't want this to be real. I wake up, thinking that it might be a joke, a misunderstanding. You know? Like it's not about me."

"I know. But we can't pretend it's not. Not now."

Their eyes met, calm and steady without faltering.

"Victor, I'm going to ask you something and I want you to answer me truthfully. Fair?"

"Yes."

"Are you ready?"

Victor felt the surprise as an electrical shock rushing through his body, like it momentarily suspended him. Made him trapped in a state of nothingness. It felt as if he was watching himself, Chris and Makkachin from the outside, like he was someone else trying to participate without being asked, while the question echoed inside. _Ready? Ready for what? Anything? Everything? Can one ever be?_

"No," Victor finally replied, feeling something awaken inside. Something he didn't know how to approach just yet. Instead, he gave his friend a smile, hoping it would soothe them both. "I'm glad you came, Chris."

"Hey, I tend to hear that quite often."

Victor let the comment pass without giving it any attention. "So… How long are you here for?"

"Four nights. I'll leave after New Year's."

He couldn't read Chris' expression, but the hug he received told him everything he wanted to know. They understood each other. And for now, that was enough.

* * *

The soft murmurs from the kitchen made Yuuri turn his head, waking him from his reveries. It was mesmerising to him, how he still found pieces belonging to the puzzle that was Victor. How they accumulated, making him understand him more. Love him more.

He was different with Chris. He had a side to him that Yuuri would describe as sharp, slightly flamboyant and somewhat teasing, a side of him that rarely shone through when they were together alone. Still, all those different sides of him, all the different masks Victor donned was really him.

Seeing Victor lean against the countertop, coffee cup in hand while Chris did the dishes, made Yuuri wonder how Victor, _his_ Victor, was perceived by Chris. Or by others that knew him before he ever had the chance to, for that matter. To think that there were still layers to Victor that were unknown to him, made him feel a small vibration inside. He wondered if he ever would have a chance to get to know them, or rather, get to know Victor in his entirety.

To shake those thoughts off himself, he decided to join them. Chris' visit wasn't about that, it wasn't about getting lost in mourning things he knew nothing about. It was about Victor. Victor's birthday. The celebration of him and the life that had been given him. The one that he was eternally grateful of being a part of, despite everything.

"... so that's what happened," Yuuri caught Chris saying as he walked into the kitchen area, "and I can honestly say I _would_ do it again."

"Hi, love." Victor greeted him with a laugh, apparently amused by Chris' story.

"What are you talking about?"

Yuuri saw Victor give Chris a look, an ambiguous look, that Chris promptly disregarded.

"I just told him about the time I ended up stranded at the Mirabel in Canada. I missed my flight due to… circumstances, one might say andㅡ"

"Here we go," Victor laughed, covering his mouth.

"As I was saying," Chris sneered playfully, "I met this guy after hours of waiting. Cute, of course, but not really my type because he was so, how to say it, _soumis_ ㅡ"

"Submissive," Victor interjected, speaking into his cup.

" _D'accord,_ but we were bored so we kind of… Okay, we ended up in one of the bathrooms andㅡ"

Yuuri sighed.

"Hey, wait. It gets better. Anyway, he gave awesome head, didn't ask for anything in return and that was that. At least, that's what I _thought_ until I saw him at the check in. Guess who got upgraded?"

"I… um… how..."

"I told you he wouldn't appreciate that, Chris," Victor cooed whilst nuzzling the top of Yuuri's head.

"Good for you?" Yuuri finished his train of thought, feeling his cheeks flare up.

"It was beyond good. I was hoping he would work in the cabin but no such luck. That would definitely have made it the best flight ever. Speaking of which…" Chris wiped his hands on the towel before walking over to his bag in the living room. "I have something for you. For the both of you."

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Yuuri said automatically, relishing the interruption.

"Where's your laptop?" Chris called from across the open space.

"What are you going to show us, Chris? Proof of your story's authenticity?" Victor called back.

"Oh, _I wish_. No, it's something else. Laptop? Where?"

"Wait," Yuuri said whilst leaving Victor's side. He quickly went into the bedroom and took Victor's laptop, presenting it to Chris.

"You're going to love this, I think. Come, sit!"

The three of them sat down on the sofa and waited for Victor's laptop to boot up.

"Aw, that's cute," Chris mused seeing Victor's desktop background before he plugged in a USB-stick. "When was this?"

"It's from this April," Yuuri responded, squeezing Victor's hand.

"Oh, that figures. I don't think I had the opportunity to congratulate you before now. Not in person anyway. So, Victor. Yuuri. Congratulations." Chris paused, just for a second or so, before he resumed, almost inaudibly. "It's just so unㅡ"

"Huh? What's that?" Victor sounded puzzled.

"No, no. Nothing. So, anyway. This, my friends, is my gift to you." Chris opened an unnamed folder with a double click.

"Don't tell me it'sㅡ"

"Of course it's not, Yuuri," Victor laughed. "He's dirty but he has morals. Kind of."

"You don't seem to know me all that well, friend," Chris laughed. "No, this is the entire collection of images and movies I've ever taken of you, Victor. Ever since we first met, I think. Here, you do the honors."

Yuuri's heart started to hiccup. Another piece of the puzzle, offered to him just like that. How he wanted that, needed that. He leaned in as Victor took the laptop and placed it in front of himself on the coffee table, and caught himself holding his breath.

"Chris," Victor said, "this is… you've saved _everything_?"

"Yes. I like souvenirs, what can I say. Go on, let's take a walk down Memory Lane. For old time's sake. Start from the beginning." Chris gave Victor's knee a small pat. " _Je t'aime, mon pote_."

* * *

Yuuri tried to be as quiet as possible when he tiptoed out of the bedroom the following morning. Victor and Chris had stayed up late, and it was unusual that he was the one heading to bed first, tapping out due to barely being able to stay awake. The tension of making Chris' surprise visit come together had washed away, leaving him exhausted.

He closed the door behind him and heard Makkachin shamble across the floor. When the dog finally came up to him, for he was usually a late sleeper too, he sat down on his heels and gave him a pat.

"Morning, Makka. Are you hungry?" He whispered his question, out of respect for Chris sleeping in the livingroom.

"Yuuri, you don't have to whisper," Chris voice sounded from the inflatable mattress in the corner. "I'm awake."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Good morning, Chris. Do you want breakfast too?"

"I don't want what Makkachin's having. But yes, please."

Yuuri smiled at the comment and headed off to the kitchen.

"What would you like, Chris?"

"Something filling."

Yuuri felt a small flash of heat envelop him, hearing Chris' response. He knew Chris was kind, caring even, but that side of him was uncomfortable. He still had problems with Victor's way of flirting in everyday conversation, but Chris' constant innuendo was something else. He was always so uninhibited, so sexual. So vastly different from himself.

Yuuri found himself wondering if Chris even realised how he portrayed himself, how he expressed himself and how it sounded to other people. Maybe he was perfectly aware, and that was even more embarrassing to think about.

He peered at him from behind the door of the refrigerator to see if he was joking or not, but hid behind it just as quick when he saw Chris' naked backside. That shouldn't surprise him but it did, making him feel annoyed. He kind of saw something like that coming, although Chris' naked ass wasn't the first thing he had in mind.

Trying to sound as blasé as possible, even though he wished that he had stayed in bed with Victor with a heat that almost outmatched the one he felt on his cheeks and ears, he replied. "I can make something, sure."

He heard Chris' naked feet against the floor when he served Makkachin some kibble, and slowly exhaled out of relief when he saw that Chris had the common decency to put something, albeit scanty, on the lower part of his body.

"Coffee?"

"Please. Thank you, Yuuri. You don't want any help with that?"

"No! No, no, just sit. You're a guest, so..."

He didn't want him close, but for some reason, having Chris' eyes on himself felt no better. It felt strange. It was as if he was being scrutinised, thoroughly observed without any reason. As he placed some slices bread on the kitchen island together with Chris' small bowl of _kasha_ , he just had to ask.

"Are, um… are you thinking about something, Chris?"

"No. Not really."

"It kind of feels like you do. The way you're watching me without saying anything, I mean."

"Hmm…"

Yuuri went back to the stove and fetched his own bowl, and put it on the marble surface before he sat down. Chris' green eyes were on him again, making the previous feeling of being observed turn into a slight annoyance instead.

"What is it?" He noticed that his voice had a edge to it, just a little too late.

"I'm just thinking about how you seem to be doing."

The answer wasn't at all what he had expected. "How I'm doing," he repeated.

"Yeah."

"That'sㅡ"

"Oh, but it is. I care for you because you're with Victor. And Victor… yeah, he's important to me." Chris reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip.

"What are you trying to say, exactly," Yuuri responded warily, putting his bowl back on the kitchen island.

"Is there anything _you_ want to say?"

"To you? About what?" He felt his heart maul him hard from the inside. He could sense it, where the conversation was going and he didn't like it. It wasn't what he'd planned when he had asked Chris if he wanted to come. If he wanted to see Victor.

"Yuuri. Let's stop the charades, _d'accord_? How are you holding up? With Victor being sick? With Victorㅡ"

"Chris, stop. I don't feel comfortable talking about this."

"With me?"

"With anyone."

"Not even with Victor?"

 _Not even with Victor._ But he had, just days before. He had, finally, although it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. Although he hadn't _said_ _it_ , the word, not to Victor, he had shown him that he knew. That he understood. And that he had started on a journey where their paths would converge, somewhere. Sometime. But bringing all that up again, it was uncomfortable. Too soon.

So, he shook his head and ended up looking down, following the veins of the marble with his eyes instead.

"Do you feel alone, Yuuri?"

_Very. Immensely! But why do you care? Why does it matter to you?_

"Yuuri?"

He nodded. Just twice, since the motion brought a sickening feeling with it. That's exactly how it was. He felt alone. Alone in his struggle to understand, to accept. He laughed, just a short, brief little sound. It was ironic to him, how he could feel deserted on a journey that would leave him just like that. Without what still felt like his purpose and his context. He would, indeed, be alone and somewhere inside, he understood that it would feel different once that was a heartrending fact. It wouldn't feel like this. It would feel worse, how impossible it seemed, for it would be irrevocable. Definite.

"Did… did Victor ask you to talk to me about this?" Yes, there was a burn behind his eyelids. His throat started to tighten. He realised he didn't want to hear the answer, especially if it was a 'yes'. That would make it hurt more.

"No, I'm the one asking. Victor's got nothing to do with this." Chris paused. "You can talk to him, Yuuri. About this. About anything, everything. I know he… I _know_ he'll love you just the same. Maybe even more. You don't have to feel alone, he wants to be with you. Especially now."

Yuuri put his hands on his thighs, fisting them hard. Hearing Chris' words was like being offered yet another puzzle piece, one he didn't know what to do with because it felt like it didn't fit. In fact, he sometimes felt isolated together with Victor. It had become an unspoken rule, the way things were meant to be contained, hidden away from what was going on outside the pair of them. He had respected Victor's wishes, keeping his illness a secret between them and the select few that knew, by constantly making excuses for him. By following his wishes and even demands, breathlessly and thoughtlessly. Though confusingly enough, Victor wanted a transparency between them. A transparency that was even more harrowing than being forced to keep things under lock and key. For that was how it was, talking to Victor felt insurmountable. Talking about him, not as much. Depending on the topic.

"He chose you," Yuuri heard Chris say, with a tint of bitterness in his voice, "don't you ever forget that. He travelled across the world for you. He coached you. He married you."

The sound of Makkachin lapping water from his bowl turned out to be a welcomed interruption in the pressing silence.

"Maybe I'm a fool," Chris continued then, "for talking to you like this. I don't know, but he worries about you. Naturally. Does he have to?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

He heard Chris sigh, a deep exhale. "Is there anything you want to say to him? Or is everything said between the both of you?"

"No, I... I want to tell him many things. B-but what I want to say, it's… it's not for you."

"Of course not." A small clink is heard from Chris' direction. Spoon against bowl, probably. The clink had that metallic undertone. "Yuuri, don't wait. Just do it. Talk to him, I mean. I'm going to, because I can't stand the thought of not being able to. Of losing my chance."

"It's just… I can't. Why… is it like that?" He started to focus on his breathing. That would help, if he could only get his breathing under control, then he could finally sayㅡ

"Hey! You should've woken me up! Morning, love. Chris."

Victor's fingers felt warm against the side of Yuuri's neck, before his lips took over the touching. He looked up, looked into blue eyes being observing, just a moment shy of being scrutinising and hoped that nothing would come of it.

"Am… I interrupting anything?"

"Yuuri?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"N-no. No you weren't. Good morning. Sit, I'll get you some breakfast." Yuuri went over to the cupboards and picked out a bowl, calling out to Victor over his shoulder. "So, um… Did you sleep well?"

"I did."

"Oral stimulation does that to a person, huh! I kept you up all night," Chris laughed, engaging Victor in friendly banter.

For once, Yuuri felt thankful for Chris' lack of timing. Or maybe, that was exactly what is was. Timing. Saving him from something he needed a little more time to prepare himself for.

* * *

The days that followed were different. Not their contents, they were filled with sights, new memories and reminiscing the old all the same. What was different was the air of them, how something unknown was dictating the mood and made the days follow it blindly without resisting.

And days, they pass. They turn into evenings when long talks about nothing carry on and finally claim the small hours of the night. When the subduing veil of day is shrugged off and something else opens up, something not hindering innate needs. Something that doesn't pay any respect to time itself. A place to be, where every moment is the one that counts.

The soft sounds of the TV were lulling, and having Yuuri sleeping with his head heavily resting on his lap made Victor even more convinced that he was next to succumb. He bubbled inside, remembering how assuring Yuuri had been; 'I won't fall asleep, I've been wanting to see it for ages now'. That had yet to happen. He doubted it ever would, having heard those exact words too many times to count. But still, not enough. And Chris' last nudge to his side, followed by maybe the fifth whispering 'are you asleep', felt like it happened an eternity ago. Like Chris had given up on the idea of having someone to watch the movie with somewhere after a car chase, or maybe the hero had been kissing the love interest? Not that it was important.

Victor felt his breathing turn deep, heavy and slow. Felt the warmth of Yuuri's cheek against his palm slowly disappear, Chris' shoulder melting away against the side of his head. Just moments away now, maybe five more breaths, five more in and outs beforeㅡ

"I've been thinking about when to tell you this, Victor. I've decided that I'm going to, tomorrow, so forgive me if this sounds sentimental and shit. I still have some time to make it sound right. It will by tomorrow, I promise." A low chuckle, rocking them as they sat.

And just like that, he was wide awake. Listening to the French words that were almost rendered soundless by the noise from the TV. But he kept his eyes closed, tried to stay heavy in his immovability, tried to keep his breathing slow. Tried to decide if he could just pretend that he was asleep. Would that mean that he had to continue pretending until tomorrow? Pretending not to acknowledge what he knew this one sided conversation would do to him?

"I'll never forget when we first met, buddy. When you won the Euros, looking like the perfect meeting of masculinity and femininity… Your words to me, spurring me to chase you. Taking me where I am today. Looking at the photos with you and Yuuri made me realise, no remember that… fuck, Victor! I can't imagine not having you around, I can'tㅡ"

Chris' head touched his, settled in and stayed and with the action, a hand found its way around his shoulders, although barely touching.

"You've been an inspiration to me, my greatest rival. My best friend. No, you are. You _are_! The season you spent on coaching and not skating was the worst one I've ever had. Except for this one. Victor, I've been imagining us meeting here, or in Switzerland after retiring. I've been imagining us getting drunk, talking about the stupid stuff we did in our teens, the shit we got into in our early twenties. I've been imagining us being over forty, skating in some 'Whatever on Ice'-kind of bullshit, just to show everyone how it's supposed to be done. I've been imagining meeting your kids, you meeting mine… I won't have that. We won't have that. _You won't_.

"You won't, Victor. No matter how fucking much it hurts me to think about not being able to talk to you, meet you… thinking about the things you will never be able to do, see or experience for that matter is just… Oh, God! Oh, God, Victor…

"And now, you're married and everything. The things you won't be able to, with him, huh? With Yuuri? It's so unfair. It's just so cruel, so incredibly cruel. If there's someone I wanted to experience life the way it should be, being able to feel loved and love someone in return, it would have to be you. You, you son of a bitch. You've been so fucking lost, and why can't you just be allowed to be fucking found for just a little while longer? Why did this have to happen to you?"

Victor felt Chris' lips on his head. Once, twice between stuttering exhales. An act of consoling himself more than anything else, most likely. Time to pretend was over, he figured, and let his hand leave Yuuri's cheek to find Chris' hand on his shoulder instead.

Chris flinched. That never happened, and being the one that brought it out of him felt like a small win. He could still surprise people, even the ones that knew him.

"What, you stupid asshole? Don't tell me you've been awake the entire time?" Chris words were low. Loving and warm despite their meaning.

"Sorry, Chris. I'm sorry," he whispered, turning his head and found green eyes waiting for his.

"No, Victor. _I'm_ sorry."

He was barely able to get a glimpse of them, before he was pulled into an embrace. One that felt like a vice. But it was fine, perfect even. He needed it to stay whole.

"Did I embarrass you," he whispered into Chris' ear, allowing his fingers to respond with the same force.

"No. No, never." Chris made a laugh-like sound. It sounded appalling, with his voice being overrun by emotions so far from what could be interpreted as joy. "It takes more than that. But you know what, Victor?"

"Hm?"

"I'm going to embarrass you now. Once, I wanted it to be us. Hah, can you imagine?"

Victor felt himself tense up. So, this was that kind of talk. The one you have maybe once or twice with the same person, during a lifetime. Brought on by desperation, the need to leave nothing unsaid.

He tried to sound indifferent when he answered, not sure if he managed it or not. "You and me?"

"Yeah. The way we were, it could've happened. I kind of liked you back then."

 _Kind of? Back then?_ Victor inhaled, ready to say something, anything, but became interrupted as Chris continued.

"I can honestly say I felt jealous when you started coaching him. I knew, I knew so well that you were hoping for him to be all over you, the way he'd been at the Grand Prix banquet the year before. I was convinced you were screwing by then, when you started coaching him. Were you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well… I guess not. You know, I had a talk with him then. In China."

" _A talk_? Chris, what theㅡ"

"Oh?" Chris' embrace loosened up, just a bit. "Figures that he never told you. I kind of expected that. But yeah, I did talk to him. I told him not to keep you to himself. I wanted you back on the ice where you belonged. I needed you there. For me."

"I don't know what to say, Chris."

"Then don't." Chris sighed before he continued. "Yuuri was amazing. Seeing him made me understand that you," Chris pushed himself out of the embrace, "wouldn't allow yourself to give him up. And neither would he."

The moans from the TV caught their attention and they sat silently through the obligatory sex scene. The hero had conquered the love interest and made a big deal out of it. So did she.

"Chris?" Victor straightened himself up, left the warmth of Chris' shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"What do I look like when I'm with him?"

The answer didn't come immediately, but when it did, it was thought through. Transparent. Truthful. Spoken out into the void around them with a voice that was full of regret and adoration. "Content, I'd say," Chris started. "In love. Like… you've come home. Like you've found what you've been looking for. Finally."

The ending credits began, darkening the living room with its polarity, its white text on black background. Hopes and dreams of so many, focused around one thing. Proudly displayed to the world. And eventually, most probably, turning into a memory that really didn't matter much.

"Finally."

With a sigh, Victor stood up, taking great care in putting Yuuri's head softly against the cushions of the sofa. He removed Yuuri's glasses and put them on the coffee table, making a small sound as the frame clinked a little against the surface. As he leaned in, he whispered into Yuuri's ear as silently as he could to bring him back. "Love? Time for bed."

"Mmm…"

"No, bed. If you're not getting up, I'll carry you there." He turned to Chris with a wink, not noticing that he had transitioned into English. "He hates when I carry him. Like I'm breakable or something. Seems like he doesn't care tonight, though."

Victor pushed his arms underneath Yuuri's shoulders, around the back of his thighs and picked him up. Not without a small struggle, one he had hoped not to show his friend.

"Good night, Chris," he said over his shoulder as he headed off to the bedroom.

"Good night, Victor. See you in the morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Oh, and Chris?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks. For everything."

If Victor had stayed, just for a few seconds longer, he would have seen his best friend allow his glasses to join Yuuri's on the coffee table. He would have seen him bury his face in his hands and, if he dared to get closer, he would have heard a whisper. One that spoke of opportunities lost and strangely, even found.

" _For everything I never could give you until now."_

* * *

He woke up to the sensation of fingers playing across his stomach, his side. It tickled but not uncomfortably, for the movements were too slow. Victor stayed in that for a while, with his eyes closed and his ears open. Just listening. Just like the night before.

Falling asleep after carrying Yuuri to bed had been a close to insurmountable task, having Chris' confession grinding inside him. He started to think about cause and effect, all of the little things that had brought him together with Yuuri and how it easily could have been different. It _could_ have been Chris. Maybe. Possibly.

Remembering how he was, the season he and Yuuri met, it could have been Chris. Although, not like this. Not at all like this, with hands asking for permission. With glasses on his coffee table and the unimaginable feeling inside that made him weak but wanting, no, _needing_ more.

He ended up waiting. Listened to slow breaths, and not only his own, anticipated a voice breaking through the quiet. Words weren't shared with him this time, though. Just the slow, beckoning touches against him, asking him to wake up. The small and brief huffs of air against his arm, begging him to take part. That's how they were with each other, Victor figured. Doing instead of talking. Before, it had sometimes been magical, the doing instead of the talking, because they knew where the had each other with just a touch or a glance. They knew it so well. Now, he was unsure. Not only about where they had each other, but where he had himself.

The differences he had been hurled between during the last few of days had made him exhausted, the emotions the changes had brought on had done the same. Even so, he felt he wasn't done. He wanted them to be closer, to understand each other. To express what was inside a bit more. He never wanted to be done with that.

"Yuuri?" He just whispered his name. Not feeling the need to do anything else. Not in that moment.

"Mm?"

Victor felt happy the touches, the deliberate caresses, continued just like they were. Again, the doing was easy. It gave instant gratification, the way he could just be enveloped in it and not think. But he wanted it to be different, at least for today.

"Have you been thinking about what you want to do tonight?"

"Tonight?" The touches had started to travel upwards. Fingers were now memorising his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Mapping every irregularity, every change in him.

"Mhm. Chris wants to go out, probably, but… Maybe we can send him away and stay in? Just you and me?"

Then, they stopped. The undemanding and gentle touches became a soft pressure instead, radiating warmth into the skin stretched across his collarbone. Acting as something foreboding. _This is what happens when we talk, just the two of us. Everything stops._

"Stay in? For New Year's?" Yuuri's voice sounded questioning, but also close. Close, closer than Victor had imagined.

"Yeah. I want to spend it with you." _Only you._ "If you don't mind."

"I don't but… what about Chris? He's a guest? He's here to see you?"

"Don't worry about him. I know he won't mind. Also," Victor opened his eyes and ended looking straight into Yuuri's, almost completely curtained by black and bed-fondled hair, "I need you to myself tonight. I really, really do."

"Then…"

"Then let's make it a night to remember."

 

**~**~**

**  
**

As Victor predicted, Chris accepted his request, or demand more like, without hesitation. With nothing else than a meaning look and a pat on the shoulder, the deal was sealed over dinner. A traditionally late dinner, as Russian customs go.

Chris exited the flat, holding up Victor's small handwritten note with the address in Cyrillic. He smiled before he closed the door. "I'll stay out as long as I can. I have no problems enjoying myself, so don't wait up!"

With that, they were alone. With nothing more than a couple of hours to spare before another year would be making its way into their lives. Victor tried not to think about it, what the new year possibly could entail for the both of them, but became continuously lost in thoughts coloured by fears and uncertainties.

"Love?" Victor called out as he was washing up the dishes. He needed to let some of it go, rid himself of, or at least distract himself from, the jabbing intrusions. But instead of shying away, he decided to face the subject. Testing the waters with his question. "What do you think happens when a person dies?"

He didn't receive an answer, just arms finding their way around him from behind, finding ways to sneak underneath his sweater. The doing is always easier, he figured, but he needed the talking. Desperately, heatedly.

"Because," he continued, "I've always thought that nothing happens. You die, you get buried and then you rot as you get remembered. Hopefully. All that talk about the afterlife, meeting whatever maker people say is out there… Russian Orthodoxy is… well, it doesn't sit well with me, you know? The part about heaven and hell, who you're allowed to love and so on. I don't believe that."

Another plate. Then another. Three drinking glasses, two made for wine. A knife, and then, he felt it. Yuuri's cheek disappearing from his back, his forehead pressed in between his shoulder blades instead.

"In Japan, we…"

 _How can he sound so small? So defeated?_ "I'm sorrㅡ"

"We see it as every human's got an eternal soul. One that never leaves."

Victor turned the faucet off and held his breath. Listened for what was to come. Afraid to make the slightest move to scare Yuuri off, like he was something wild and ethereal. Something you could never get close to. And in a way, that was true.

"That soul," Yuuri continued, making Victor exhale as softly as he could, "protects the ones still alive. We… aren't usually concerned with what happens after. We honor those who are… gone. We remember them, as vividly as we can. For as long as we can. Shrines at home. During festivals. Things like that."

"What do _you_ think?" Victor held on to the edge of the countertop. Bracing himself for something. Anything.

"I… I don't…"

"But if you had to guess? Yuuri?"

The arms grew tighter, the hands more urgent underneath Victor's clothes. Like they had an innate need to touch him, feel him, perceive him as real. Like they urgently needed to make sure that he was indeed standing there. Gripping, gripping, gripping after whatever he could offer them.

He could feel him speak. His mouth was moving, there was huffs of air seeping into his back through his sweater. But no sound.

"Hm?" Victor wanted to turn around, ask for forgiveness for thinking it was the right time. For thinking that Yuuri was ready to hear that question. For thinking that Yuuri was indeed strong, ready to stand next to him. He wasn't there, he still needed him to carry him, he still neededㅡ

"I want you to wait for me. Wherever you end up, whatever happens to you, after, I… I want you to wait for me. I will look for you, I will find you and when I do, I…"

He stilled the hands tearing into him. Enclosed them in his own. Pulled them forth from underneath his sweater and kissed them. Every knuckle, every joint, every fingertip. Comforting himself with the feeling of skin against his lips, quieting himself by feeling the faint taste of metal on his tongue.

"Don't ever make me stop you living your life, Yuuri. You hear? It can't stop. It can't. I don't want it to." He spoke into the palms of Yuuri's hands, not caring if his words were heard or not. But the reaction that came afterwards, said they were heard. Not only heard, they had pierced through. They had dug themselves into the very core of their intended recipient.

With his hands closing themselves tightly around Victor's, Yuuri spoke. "Don't say that. Please, don't say that."

"I need you to know that, love. I need you to know that you won't have any obligations towards me afterwards. I need to know that you understand. Do you? Yuuri?"

"Turn around."

Yuuri's voice was too low for him to hear.

"Sorry? What's that?"

"I said, turn around!"

He did what he was told, he turned around with Yuuri's hands still in his. He squeezed them tightly when he met a pair of eyes he suddenly felt hard to look into. They made him feel guilty, moved and strangely enough, calm at the same time. He wondered why that was, as he leaned in and removed Yuuri's glasses, putting them on the countertop behind him.

The hands that broke free found his face immediately afterwards, overflowing brown eyes became locked on his. He could see it all in those eyes. What was going on behind them. What would be said next. What they would do afterwards. How incomprehensible that was, that he could read those eyes like a map depicting them, he could only focus on one thing. One thing that made him feel unchained.

"I will always love you! I will always love you! I will never forget how this felt, every moment before this! I won't forget the moments to come! I will never forget you! Your hands, your eyes, your voice… The way you move, what you find funny, how you make me feeㅡ"

"Did you hear what I said?" He caught a tear with his thumb as he drew a half circle underneath Yuuri's eye while asking that, calmly and stoically. But inside, he shattered. Those brown eyes said it all. And he was ready to hear it.

"Shut up! Don't make me forget you even before you're gone! I want all of you for as long as I can! Don't deny me!"

"I need to know that you heard what I asked of you," Victor replied, his throat narrowing with every moment being in Yuuri's hands. "I need to know that you will go on, because I want that. I want that for you. I need to know that you will be okay. That you'll… that you'll find someone else."

With a whimper, Yuuri fell into him and buried his face into the side of his neck. Victor felt the tears against his skin as he tangled his fingers into Yuuri's hair, pulling him closer.

"I want you to stay." Yuuri's words were almost unintelligible as they were sobbed and kissed into his neck.

"You know I won't. You know this."

"I don't… I don't want…"

"Yuuri… my love, Iㅡ"

"I don't want you to die!"

They were talking instead of doing.

 

**~**~**

**  
**

When sharing a moment filled with emotions together with someone, something happens. When two beings meet, no matter the reason why, no matter the thought behind it, they get closer. They form a bond. They create an understanding made just for the two of them. Something that transcends beyond time, something that becomes untouchable and true.

In that kitchen with undried plates next to the sink, with a bowl of dog food standing in a corner on the floor, with photographs taped to the refrigerator door, two people just experienced that. That something just became more real, by the use of words.

Victor, with his hands in Yuuri's hair thought of nothing else than holding on. Holding on to what he saw as his, praying inside himself that he would always remember what it felt like to do just that. And Yuuri, with fingers spasmodically clawing at Victor's back, intending to never let go. To never relinquish the closeness for as long as he drew breath. But, as seconds turned to minutes and minutes kept adding up to a longer moment, they made that happen. They let go, in different ways. Starting with easing up on the contact between them with slow and pained sighs until Yuuri had his hands clasped around the back of Victor's neck and Victor felt Yuuri's elbows in his hands.

They stood like that, watching each other. Understanding each other, at least somewhat. Slowly coming to the realisation that they had begun to find each other on that winding road that lead to the cease-be of them. To them, the uncertainty was the worst. Knowing that it was, at least for now, okay. Not knowing when it would be ripped away, and hence, start the inevitable journey towards something else. Something that could be considered as final.

At that moment, the doing took over. They weren't sure why that was. Maybe, everything that possibly could be shared between the two in that instance had been said. Maybe, their hearts wanted to mend each other, despite the blatant need to say so much more. Maybe, they just needed to let go. Nevertheless, it started with a kiss. A kiss that pleaded to be delivered with an urgency, shared between them like it was a mutual idea, an understanding shared.

So when Victor gripped Yuuri's elbows tighter, Yuuri's clasped hands pulled Victor close. When Victor pressed his hands against Yuuri's back, Yuuri's hands found solace by resting on Victor's head. When Victor's hands removed Yuuri's, they became entwined. Fingers braided together, locked tightly with the intention of never easing up.

Then, one head tilted up as the other bent down. It was like a dance, a conversation made out of movement where the both of them had the exact same thing to say to the other. Made with small cues, invisible reactions and palpable intent. Breaths being exhaled onto the other, eyes flickering between eyes and lips, saying 'yes' and asking 'can I'.

Then, they met, those lips. Just the one time, ever so briefly. Then, hands let go and found fabric acting as shackles, promptly freeing the other from them and baring bumpy skin. Leaving the chains on the kitchen floor without a second of hesitation. Then, eyes started to venture, finding safe harbors in curves, lines and hollows. In the topography they knew.

A hand decided to grip another. Taking the lead in that dance, making a point in their conversation. Asking with a pull if the other could follow. And it did, it followed selflessly, thoughtlessly, breathlessly until it was let go, asked into doing the same again. When it obliged, caught up in buttons, zippers and caressing motions until skin was uncovered, it roused its kin to do the same.

And finally, it was just them underneath the pale thread of moonlight through the window of their bedroom, painting them soft and silver where it could touch them. They remained so, hoping to melt into each other, with arms and legs pulling the other close. Waiting for the sign, any sign.

It was noticeable in their eyes first, when they caught fire. Just flickers of yellow and red , reminding them of the flare of the early sky. Then their bodies did the same, reveled in the blue and green of the depths unknown. The fizzes and booms outside didn't mean anything, except for acting as a starting signal.

A new year had liberated the old, and together, they were set on doing. As if nothing else was possible.

* * *

With a smile on his lips, he unlocked the door. It had been a good night. Not crazy by his standards, but fulfilling nonetheless.

The flat was bathed in darkness as he stumbled in. He was the only one awake, he figured, as he was fighting to remove his shoes. Keeping his balance seemed to be an impossible endeavour, so he braced himself with a hand against the wall.

"Wow, _I_ had too much to drink?" He laughed at himself silently.

As he took the first few steps away from the front door, he was met by a dog that shivered. Seeking support from one that could offer it instantly. "Yeah, you guys usually don't like this kind of thing," he said, patting the dog on its head. "That's why I like cats. You're so clingy."

He pulled off his shirt immediately and headed towards the bathroom, stopping just a breath shy of entering. The fireworks that lit the city on fire could be heard inside the flat, but it didn't make sense. The noises he heard sounded nothing like what he had been hearing outside, just minutes prior.

When he looked to his right, he was filled with a warmth. One that couldn't be attributed to the alcohol now coursing through his system. It was different, this warmth. It carried hope and relief with it, as well as a slight arousal. He chuckled as he leaned in a bit to get a better view.

They looked beautiful together. Bearing the colours of northern lights, shooting stars, galaxies from a hundred light years ago, flickering, playing, travelling. Merging into multifaceted patterns, creating unbelievable hues. They were uninhibited and raw, needing and wanting, stuck to each other and moving as one. They were sounding primal and unfettered, loud and obscene. Not knowing, maybe not even caring, that he saw them.

With a small shake of the head and small smile on his lips, he closed the door. Not entirely, for he wasn't keen on giving himself away. Even less interested in disturbing. He left a small slit in the door, as he walked over to his mattress on the floor, undressed and reclined with a sigh.

"I love you both," he whispered and scooted over to make room for a attention-seeking dog, putting his arms around it as it curled up next to him. Dogs weren't that bad, after all.

"You are ready. May you never fade," he prayed, as the moans slowly did. Leaving nothing but a darkness behind.

 

**~Year One: Winter~**

**the end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last arc incoming. I'm really bad with updates, I know, but it's hard approaching the inevitable goodbye. Let's pretend we're ready to use the words needed when the time comes. Thank you so much for your support so far <3


	47. Year Two: Spring, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After eight months of writing this off and on, we've finally reached the first chapter of the last arc of this story. I never planned for this to be this long, and if I had known that it would turn into this, I would probably have reconsidered. I've decided to let it have the time it needs instead of pushing updates, it's better that it's treated with love and care than being rushed. Thank you for reading it so far <3
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

 

A thing being told three times is to be considered true.

First, it happened in December. It opened up to something new, made two lovers get closer. Made them say things that had been unspoken before. Made them do things that had been undone before. Made them dare to think, despite the value of things said and things done, that there was time. That they still could, just a bit longer. They became hopeful.

Second, it happen in January, when the year was new. When what had been previously said and done gradually got left to reside in the shadows of unremembrance. It made them focus on other things entirely, made them forget about death and brought on brief flashes of life instead. Made them forget about hurt and initiated a process of healing within. They became stronger.

Third, it happened in February, on a day meant for valuing relationships, a day they saw as a celebration of love. It brought on an indescribable feeling. A magnificent feeling. A feeling that erased every hardship, every preparation, every foreboding thought. It just ceased to be, the worry. The macabre way of approaching things, wondering if they experienced them for the last time. The realisation of having to say goodbye. And because of that, all was well. Felt well. Seemed well. They became invincible.

Seeing oneself as invincible erases fear and brings out a heady recklessness, a stupidity. It's like the feeling of being sustained by something larger and ethereal, something that bestows immortality by giving in to it, erases all sense. Charms a person into thinking that it is possible to cheat and get away with it, no matter who the opponent is. Like it's possible to stand above constants like uncertainty, time and death. But that was where they were, or ended up more like. Feeling untouchable, high on knowing the fact.

Thanks to that, Victor dared more. Dared to end up watching, just like before. Dared to reconnect with an almost forgotten relationship, that of a teacher and student, and grew in the role. Dared to use the language of his coaching self, being blunt and sometimes unforgiving. Dared to push his own body in order to make it stronger, maybe to chase some of the memories of himself he thought to be long lost, but never on the ice. But more importantly, he dared to relax and with the relaxation, he dared to forget. Distance himself from what he, somewhere inside, knew was haunting him. Just skin deep.

Seeing how his state of mind influenced the one he stayed close to was nothing but unreal, the best reward. How his relaxation seemed contagious, taking over all that was his husband and student, and seemingly left him with something he'd been trying to imbibe him with for close to a year. He couldn't stop thinking about it, how his struggles trying to carry and support really weren't worth anything when it came down to it. What seemed to be the most important thing was how he projected himself, how he seemed in the eyes of his own beholder, and that he had finally been able to give him what they both had sought, independently of each other.

_Peace of mind._

"Victor!"

The hiss of Yuuri's skates, even more so than his ecstatic voice, pulled Victor back just in time to see Yuuri's beaming face as he got closer.

Yuuri looked his best when he was at ease, Victor thought. The way Yuuri smiled a toothy smile while his hair acted as a dark veil that stuck to his forehead, brought out a sigh. It was an immediate reaction, seeing the abundance of wet strands repeatedly falling back into place, although Yuuri tried to fend them away with his gloved hands. The small frown that took over when the black ends defiantly tickled Yuuri's eyelids, ending up just the way they were before getting pushed away from his face anew, made Victor smile too. Only Yuuri could make a thing out of battling his own, and extremely stubborn, hair and make it look… like nothing else mattered. That life was supposed to be all about him and his fight to get strands out of his eyes. Victor's heart swelled with the following beat.

Yuuri had given everything he could possibly offer during their session, something Victor had advised against by barking from where he stood at the boards. A tired body ends up making sloppy mistakes and creates bad memories, that was why he found it important to tell Yuuri to hold back time and time again. To bring him closer to whatever podium, he needed to make him understand that he needed to focus during practise and unleash what was bubbling underneath at competitions instead. Not that he himself had ever listened to that advice when he trained under Yakov, but he reluctantly admitted to himself that the old man had a point. He chuckled at the realisation that a person takes after the ones he finds being important, whether he wants to or not. He had to tease Yakov about that.

"I'm starting to hate the programs." Yuuri scoffed, probably more at his hair that continued to annoy him rather than the routines.

"Oh?" Victor's hands found Yuuri's elbows immediately, squeezing them a little when he felt Yuuri's hands on his shoulders in return. This was new, unexpected. Yuuri's choice of words, how he had seemed so sure before when he chose them.

"Yes, I… I'm starting to think that should have done something else instead this season. I decided the theme too quickly."

For some reason, Victor felt a prickle. The smallest of taps, at the nape of his neck. Like something was asking him to open up and let it in. But in a distinguished manner, like it was willing to wait. In that moment, he realised what was rapping on his front door to his consciousness. But he pushed it away, because that's what untouchable people do. They don't listen. Because just below that layer, that extra skin of invincibility that is too thin, there are other things prowling. Things that terrify, things that threaten to disrupt the order of things. Things better left forgotten.

He couldn't think of anything else to say than to, almost sheepishly, acknowledge that he'd heard Yuuri's reason for disqualifying what he so fervently had wanted for the both of them, channelled through his body for the world to see but never realise, just months before. "Yeah?"

That was when Victor realised that he had started to sway.

"Mhm. I don't… I mean, it feels strange skating them now. Like it'sㅡ"

"What? Too soon?" He smiled, to take the edge off. But inside, just below that layer, there were doubts. Fuelled by the persistent but well-mannered taps, a soft rapping. Something whispering that it could wait for as long as it was needed.

He didn't receive a spoken answer in return. Just a hand on his cheek, radiating heat into him although it was gloved.

There was nothing about that touch that conveyed a sense of worry, quite the opposite. That touch was relaxed, confident, telling him that they had time yet, telling him that he was loved. And by doing so, that touch effectively smothering what threatened to flare up. Strangely enough.

"How's your back?" Yuuri spoke softly, narrowing dark eyes with a hint of something teasing behind them finding his blue.

"Still hurting, thanks to you," Victor replied, his voice coloured by the memory of something not attributed to soft taps, skating or anything that had to do with them standing up. Being composed. Being clothed.

"I'm sorry. I'll go easy on you next time."

"Don't you dare." Victor leaned in. Although they were alone, some things were better off whispered, suggested. Kept between the giver and the receiver. "I want more of that. So much more. Tonight?"

With a laugh, Yuuri took off. Leaving behind something that sounded very much like a promise.

* * *

Victor felt silly for gradually getting closer, much like something lovesick and needy. For whispering. For asking. "Are you coming with me tomorrow?"

The answer took a while. Not out of hesitation, Victor knew this. It was delayed due to the euphoric bliss that had taken Yuuri captive, moments before. Rendering him reposed, fighting to stay awake. His body still quivering, still warm and sweaty, despite the fact.

"Mmm… that's tomorrow?"

"Yeah, in the morning. That's okay with you?"

His hand was guided to swollen lips that lazily began kissing the back of it.

"Of course," Yuuri mumbled between the soft nips at the delicate skin. "Blood tests and x-rays?"

"MRI. It's been three months already."

"Oh, right. And then?" Yuuri made half a turn, his forehead pressing against Victor's when he settled. Eyes closed, but ears listening. Somewhat.

"We'll have to wait two weeks for the result, then we'll go to Prague. Then, the World Team Trophy."

A small silence spread out between them. They both knew that Yuuri being drafted to enter Worlds in Prague was nothing less of a miracle, considering his performance, or lack thereof, at the Grand Prix Final. The Japan Skating Federation saw him as a workhorse, a reliable one, despite the unspeakable event. They were unaware, though. Like everyone else outside their bubble.

"You don't know that," Yuuri finally said, low but certain. "They might pick someone else for the Team Trophy."

"Oh, but I do know. You'll see when you stand on the podium, love. You have a much more relaxed approach and relationship to your routines now, you got this. You still have the fire, but the desㅡ"

Victor stopped himself. Why were things related to what was dormant, close to forgotten, slowly making its way into their lives again? It had no reason to. They were fine _._   _He_ was fine. He'd heard it himself, some three weeks ago.

_Tap tap tap._

"Hm?" Yuuri planted a couple of soft kisses on his forehead, but unbeknownst to him, they didn't succeed in what they were supposed to.

"Oh, nothing," Victor continued. "It's just that I thought that the… I don't know,  _reasons_  behind the routines aren't as pressing anymore. Not as desperate."

"True," Yuuri said, apparently not sharing the somewhat yawning, slowly awakening trepidation Victor felt. "It's different now."

"I'm glad, love. I… just..."

_Tap tap tap._

"What's this? You're acting strange." Yuuri's eyes opened as he scooted back, remaining an arm's length or so away. "Where does this come from?"

"I don't know," Victor answered truthfully. "I think I'm nervous for some reason. Strange, huh?"

"Why?"

Yuuri's hands were just as unsuccessful as his kisses when they found Victor's face, not managing to console or soothe. Victor felt uneasy by the fact and pulled Yuuri close, embracing him hard and tight enough to hear a little huff as air got pressed out of him.

"What do you mean 'why'? You know why," he whispered, his words getting lost in Yuuri's hair. Hoping that they were sent off, exiled to never return.

"Shh. It'll be fine. It's fine. You're fine."

Arms found their way around him, still warm, and fingers began stroking his back. Tracing patterns, drawing small figures around the muscles that had started to conquer his back anew.

"I like how you look," Yuuri said, his voice muffled against the cradling shoulder. "You look healthy. Like yourself."

The hands started to travel. Caressing his back, his sides, his shoulders, ending up on top of his head. Fingers started to rake through what was there, softly and repeatedly.

"Almost enough to hold on to." A small laugh filled up the room. "If I pinch."

Victor felt a gentle tug, some strands of hair being played with. It made his breath stutter, tension shedding due to hearing Yuuri's words and feeling his purposeful touches. Now, his face was cradled by a shoulder instead, his forehead pressed close.

"I love you. Yuuri, you know that? Right?"

_Tap tap tap._

A finger found its way against his cheek, catching his emotions as they broke free.

* * *

They decided to walk. And with every step, his mindset changed. The nervousness, he hated to call it that because he considered it to be a survival instinct more than anything else, became watered down until it was barely noticeable inside. Gone were the vibrations in his chest that manifested themselves as stuttering breaths. Gone were the incoherent thoughts flapping around that made him unfocused and lost for words. Gone was the feeling of not being able to stand by him, the  _fear_ of crumbling with him being close.

"You're quiet today," Yuuri said as they approached the doors to the hospital, their footsteps sounding perfectly in synch.

"I am? I'm sorry, love. I just want to get this over with, you know?" He pulled Yuuri's hand up to his lips and just held it there, feeling his warmth seep into him.

"By not talking?"

The doors separated and the smell, that clinical smell that had become a synonym for things unmentionable, just took over. Entered him so simply, so automatically, making his  _survival instinct_  combust. This was a performance too, Victor decided. It was time to create a story with the help of his expressions, his body, his will. The theme? To let it be just like it was for a little while longer. He was going to make them all believe it, even himself. For it was fine. They were fine. He was fine.

He scoffed a little as they walked towards the registration, his hand not holding Yuuri's anymore. It was busy finding trivial things, things needed to start it all off. The performance.

"I'm fine, Yuuri," he said over his shoulder as he handed over his ID to the woman behind the desk, his eyes already looking for his credit card. " _Spasibo."_

Victor put his wallet back into the pocket of his coat and turned around. When their eyes met, his and Yuuri's, he froze. Feeling both cold and immovable. Yuuri had that look. That evaluating look.

It was a look Victor knew all too well. It was a look Yuuri had when he was teetering, when he was trying to find cues. When he was trying desperately to sort what he was experiencing, in order to find an appropriate reaction. When Yuuri had that look, he was fragile. Close to cracking.

So Victor did what had always worked. He smiled, like his life depended on it. Selling his pretended cool with narrowing eyes, a small laugh, a touch to Yuuri's cheek.

"Blood tests first. Come, love. This way."

As Victor turned around, heading for the lift, he exhaled silently. He'd done what always worked, knowing too well the effect it had on people.

But not on him. Not on Yuuri.

 

**~**~**

 

"Here we are." Victor put his hand at the small of Yuuri's back and gave him a small push once the doors to the lift opened. He needed him to move, not falter. He knew that if he noticed even the smallest of hesitation from Yuuri, he would succumb himself. Become a prisoner to what was patiently waiting.

"Victor, I'mㅡ"

"Later. We can talk later. Let's just do this and get out of here, hm?"

It was always the same routine. Nurses smiling at him, telling him that he looked well. They'd done that before too, even when he was too weak to fly. Even when he'd been kneeling on the floor in the bathroom just hours before, with his body convulsing. He'd seen through them a long time ago, but it was part of it. The performance. The game. The rules they followed to always sound hopeful, thinking it did some kind of difference. Maybe it had, once. Now, it just felt wrong. Unnecessary. Fake. But he played along, not daring to do anything but.

" _Victor, good morning,"_ he heard in Russian. " _Blood tests today, yes?"_

" _Yes,"_ he replied, trying his best to sound cheery as he turned around. He'd seen the nurse before, a woman in something that looked like her late fifties. She always wore too much mascara, making her lashes look like small twigs behind her glasses. " _It's that time of the month," he added._

She smiled, and to him, it looked sincere. A part of the performance as well.

" _Come, we'll go in here today,"_ she said as she took the lead, walking down the white corridor to a door on the right.

Victor felt annoyed by her words, the way she said 'today'. It was always the same room, everything about him coming here was always the same.

" _Does he want to come in too?"_ She unlocked the door and nodded in Yuuri's direction.

" _I think so. Love,_  do you want to sit with me?"

"Yes. If you want me to," came the reply.

He instantly wanted to console him. He wanted to make him feel like everything was fine, but in that moment, Victor was too focused on keeping himself together. To busy pressing down what had reached his throat to see outside himself. Not seeing that there were two people there, standing next to each other, battling primal instincts. Their bodies vibrating, feeding off each other's invisible cues.

" _Come, take a seat. Roll up your sleeve for me."_

He removed his coat, folded it neatly before he sat down and bared his arm.

" _You know how this works already, but I'm going to rub you with this,"_ the nurse presented a small swab between her gloved fingers, " _and then, I'll take some blood from you. Full panel today, okay?"_

Victor nodded in response, watching silently as the bend of his arm got disinfected.

" _Just to make them more visible…"_ The nurse tightened the tourniquet, touching his arm slightly, feeling the veins that started to protrude.

He was pounding. Not just his arm, his entire being fell into a pulse. A sped-up beat, one that cried too many words at once for him to hear.  _No, please, wait, stop, don't._ He didn't want it to start anew, he couldn't even imagine what would happen if it would come to that. But as a part of the routine, the game, the performance, he clenched his jaw and looked away.

In that second, in that brief little window of really being there in that room, he felt his right hand being held. Cradled and covered in between two that were cold to the touch, that were shaking. When he felt the needle enter him, the small sting ending up as a slight burn, he heard Yuuri sighing into his shoulder, feeling his head pressing into it. Yuuri's hands ending up tearing into him and his wrist.

" _Are you both afraid of needles? Just a few more seconds,"_ the nurse said softly. " _There. That wasn't too bad?"_

" _No,"_  Victor replied, as he let his chin rest on Yuuri's head, " _not bad at all."_

For it was fine. They were fine. He was fine.

* * *

"Do you want me to take your clothes?"

Yuuri had his eyes fixed on something, a line, a crack? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was nothing but the empty space between the small locker next to the door. How insignificant it seemed, it became important to him for some reason. He needed to keep it in his line of sight, to count the seconds it took for him to slowly follow it down to the floor and back up again with his eyes, to ponder how wide it was, how deep.

"It's going to take an hour, though. Leave them. You don't want to keep carrying them around," he heard Victor say behind him. "Can you tie this?"

He turned around and saw Victor, holding his clothes. Dressed in a light green hospital gown, barely hanging on to his frame. He nodded slightly, and tried not to think about what he was seeing. Victor really was a patient. Being a patient means that one is actually sick. Being sick means there's an uncertainty. Uncertainty means fear.  _Fear._  He knew what he was afraid of and seeing Victor, dressed like that in that setting, prodded something inside. Made the circular reasoning loop, time and time again.

"Yuuri?"

Victor's voice made him flinch, but it helped. At least somewhat, for he felt more present as Victor's voice dissipated, as he regained control, somewhat, over himself and his thoughts.

"Are you really supposed to be naked under there," Yuuri asked in surprise, seeing Victor's exposed backside as he started to tie the gown in the back. The six pairs of small straps from the neck down to the sway of his back. "Wasn't it just your chest they were going to check?"

"Oh," Victor suddenly laughed. "I… I don't know, honey. I just assumedㅡ"

The response from Victor brought out one Yuuri hadn't expected from himself. He started to laugh. Bubble and convulse as he tried to tie the last two straps together, losing control of his hands as the reaction rippled through him. He leaned into Victor, pressed his forehead between his shoulderblades and became rocked back and forth, for Victor was doing the same.

"I-it's just so typical of you," Yuuri howled. "I just can't, V-victor, you, whyㅡ"

"I'm sorry," he caught Victor squeal of laughter, desperately trying to breathe, now slightly leaning forward and dropping his clothes on the floor, "I thought that, ow, my back, I don't knowㅡ"

The soft knock on the door couldn't make them simmer down, neither could the ' _Victor, we're ready for you now_ '. They were left instead with a smile, a ' _come out whenever you're ready_ '.

Some moments after the door closed, they breathed, collected themselves and faced each other. Smiling still, occasionally letting a 'hah' escape them. Brown eyes locked on blue, hands touching the other's face. Something inside the both of them praising and giving thanks to the other, just by looking, touching.

"One hour," Yuuri said, his nose touching Victor's.

"One hour," Victor exhaled against his lips. "Did you bring any money? Go and have a coffee, take my wallet."

"Can't Iㅡ"

"No. Don't sit outside and wait. One hour, okay?"

Yuuri tensed up when Victor removed his glasses, only to melt the second after. Melt into the embrace, becoming weak to his knees due to the warmth against him. Feeling arms tighten around him, pulling him close, made him tilt his head. Up, searching for something that could do so much more to him than make him melt.

Victor entered his mouth tasting like coffee, and left it tasting like mint.

 

**~**~**

 

He haunted the halls. Walked down metres upon metres of white of seemingly never ending veins where people coursed through them instead. At one occasion, he took the stairs, walked some more and took the lift, only to resume his nervous pacing somewhere else.

Being alone made him think, and thoughts were always his worst enemy. As soon as he was left alone, standing all by himself inside that small room where Victor's clothes were soon to be abandoned, they started. And never stopped.

Finding just one thought and sorting it out is impossible when bombarded by many. Yuuri went through every single one that assaulted him, braced himself when another made impact and continued battling the new. Again and again it happened, with the thoughts varying in value.

The thoughts took him on a journey, even more so than his feet did. He thought of Victor and felt ashamed, guilty remembering that this was his fourth, maybe fifth, time accompanying him during this unfathomable nightmare. Victor had made this journey mostly on his own. He thought of Victor and felt happy, thankful for still being able to share moments with him that were good. Like seeing him completely naked underneath that gown, Victor being the unfazed person that he was. He thought of Victor and felt hopeless, paralysed knowing that his body would hold its breath untilㅡ

Tears suddenly stung his eyes, and with them, came thoughts of Victor, always Victor, only Victor. If any thought came across his mind, more often than the others, it would the one telling him that Victor wasn't himself. Not today.

He had no problems understanding why that was, he could easily turn his gaze inwards and use himself as an example, but at the same time, it was like he was standing in front of the greatest question mankind had ever faced but had yet to solve. Rendering him incapacitated.

_Why? You don't have to! You're fine, Vitya! Aren't you?_

He didn't even make it to the cafeteria. The constant flapping inside his head lead him elsewhere and he found himself looking at his phone. He been walking, endlessly, hopelessly, aimlessly, for close to an hour. So he started walking anew, this time with the intent of finding his way.

The Cyrillic writing on the signs in the ceiling were still unknown and unintelligible to him, and he only then realised that he didn't know where to go, where the registration was. Where Victor was. His heart started to beat faster, leaving him out of breath and hot underneath his jacket.

Down a staircase, up another, through a hallway, down a lift. He just didn't know where to go, where to find him.

As his pulse started to reach his temples, Yuuri got a sense of déjà-vu. Or, maybe it had once been a dream, but it felt like he'd done that before. Aimlessly searching, longing, needing to see him. If it was a dream, that would mean that he had to wake up just about now, feeling Victor against himself, warm and reassuring. So why didn't he?

He rounded a corner and ran into the back of a man, his surprised 'oof' making his thoughts scatter like the flock of birds they were.

" _Forgive me,"_  he exclaimed in Russian, startled.

" _Don't worry,"_ the man replied, smiling as he turned around. " _I'll get out of your way."_

" _I'm sorry, I don't understa... no, I don't speak Russian that well."_

"Oh. English?"

"J-japanese."

The man laughed, his blue eyes narrowing some. "No, do you  _speak_  English?"

Yuuri felt his ears heat up, mortified by not only running into him but also misunderstanding him completely, but managed to produce a low 'yes'.

"Good. Are you lost?"

"I-uh, I shouldn't take up your time. I'm sorry." He bowed his head a little and prepared himself to walk off.

"I work here, let me at least point you in the right direction."

"Oh… y-yes, thank you. I'm looking for the MRI, I'm late too, so I kind ofㅡ"

"Oh, let's walk together. I'm heading there myself. Here, to the left up ahead."

As they walked beside each other, Yuuri glanced at the man from the corner of his eye. He wondered what kind of position he had, for he was dressed smartly but in a casual way. He was old, his eyes and face had a distinction to them. He looked calm. Reassuring.

"So," the man suddenly said, breaking the awkward silence, "do you live in St. Petersburg? Or are you visiting someone?"

"Yes, I moved here more than two years ago."

"Ah, I see. Is the language hard for you?"

"We, oh, that is, um, me and my partner we tend to speak English most of the time, so…"

"Hm. Oh, down here. Then right. Yes, I imagine Japanese isn't an easy language to master, either?"

"That's what he tells me."

The man corrected his glasses and smiled. He inhaled, ready to say something else when his mobile phone started to ring.

"Oh, go straight down this hall, second to the left," he pointed with his hand outstretched. "I have to take this."

"Yes, thank you," Yuuri said with a nod, feeling his feet hurrying by their own accord. As drawn by an invisible force, calling out to him. Begging him to come close.

* * *

He knew it was him even before he saw him. He felt it, sensed it. Those almost running steps towards him. When he turned around, with his arms outstretched and ready, he still staggered by the impact.

"Did you eat, love," he whispered, tangling his fingers into Yuuri's hair.

"No," Yuuri replied into his chest. "I just walked."

"You just walked?"

"Mhm." Yuuri's hands found their way underneath his coat, his sweater, until they stopped. Almost as if they found some kind of relaxation when finally touching his skin. "How… was it?"

"Loud. I just closed my eyes and thought of you. Us. Being in bed in the morning. Standing together, brushing our teeth. Small things, you know."

"Oh..." Yuuri's arms grew tighter around him, a response as good as any. Maybe even moreso.

"They were just as amused as you, by the way." Victor chuckled at the memory.

"What?" Yuuri peered up at him, confusion in his eyes.

"I got to eager with the undressing, apparently."

They broke free from the embrace, still holding on to each other. Eyes smiling, reading into each other, trying to see where they were.

"Ready to leave?" Victor had to ask, although he knew the answer already. When Yuuri responded with a nod, he took hold of his hand and gripped it tightly. Tugging at it, albeit gently, until they ended up being side by side and started to walk. This time, it felt more relaxed. Like he could breathe, be entirely in the moment without feeling any discomfort.

When they came around the corner, Victor felt Yuuri squeeze his hand.

"You see that man, there?" Yuuri almost whispered, nodding to a figure standing further down the hall. "He helped me get back here, I was lost there for a while."

"Oh, really?" Victor's eyes travelled from Yuuri to the man. When their eyes met, he had to stop, take the moment in.

His two extremes, the one being his life and the one governing it, had finally met.

With a courteous nod as they passed Dr. Popyrin, talking on the phone but still acknowledging the both of them, Victor could only hope that it was a meeting made for the first and last time.

For it had to be fine. They needed to be fine. He needed to be fine.


	48. Year Two: Spring, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Victor slept badly that night. As soon as he closed his eyes, images from the day that had passed appeared and with them came thoughts. Relentless, unavoidable thoughts that whipped and spurred him awake. Without a second's hesitation, he rolled over to his side and put his face into Yuuri's hair, his arm around Yuuri's waist.

He wanted to talk to him, he realised. He wanted Yuuri to make him forget with the help of warm reassurances. He wanted Yuuri to comfort him with loving epithets. He wanted Yuuri to… rid him of what was going on inside him, understand what his fears were, tell him what he should do if it was to start again. But Victor was afraid to talk, too wrapped up in thoughts about the not so distant future to know where to begin. So after hours of twisting and turning, for that was what it felt like, he began to ask questions, instead.

It felt safer, for some reason. Questions demand answers, true, but a person can choose what answers to receive in return, depending on how the question is posed. That night, the questions were random. Heavily disconnected from his fears and apprehensions. They were close to mundane, but that was how Victor wanted it. That was what he felt he could deal with and still feel somewhat distracted. Questions about the humdrum parts of their life together, the silly everyday things where other things were banished from getting attention and space.

In truth, he really didn't care about if the sorted laundry was folded, if the light was on in the kitchen, if they had enough for breakfast, if Yuuri would practise that loop combination or not during practise next day. He just wanted to hear him, hear Yuuri and his sleepy answers in hopes of his mind being tugged in a totally different direction. For as short a fortnight might seem, it's an eternity when waiting.

"Victor," Yuuri finally mumbled after answering his questions, "can't you sleep?"

"No, not really," he answered, deciding right then and there to keep his fears as hidden from Yuuri as long as he possible could.

"Hm… come here."

Victor saw Yuuri shift beside him, felt the mattress move a little under their weight. He didn't hesitate when Yuuri invited him in, asked him with body language alone to come closer. The outstretched arms, the duvet being pushed away to expose a shelter in the storm. One he never wanted to leave, one he wanted get lost in.

As Victor came close, he stuck his head underneath Yuuri's t-shirt and put his ear against his chest. Slow, rhythmic heartbeats. A heart without any worries in the world. A heart made for listening to, a heart made for mending another. He wanted to believe it, be convinced by it and its steady whispers. It sounded sincere. Truthful.

"Are you going to sleep like that?" Yuuri asked with a yawn.

"Can't I?"

"I'd love you to," came the answer, as Yuuri's hands lazily skimmed over his back, "but won't it get warm?"

Victor kissed Yuuri's chest. Once, twice, before he emerged from his personal haven. "Can't you take it off then, if you're worried about me? Just the t-shirt?" He felt selfish for asking, but he needed it. Needed having Yuuri close. Needed him being skin to skin.

With a small sigh, Victor couldn't tell if it was a sigh of defeat or warmth, Yuuri sat up and pulled the t-shirt over his head and shoved it off the bed. "Come here," Yuuri repeated, beckoning him to come close, "sleep. Okay?"

So he did. He came closer, put his ear against Yuuri's chest anew and just listened. Listened to the slow and steady beats.  _Easy_ , they seemed to say.  _Don't worry. It's still us. Us. Us._

He never became aware of the effect of the slow and steady beats had on him, but they did what he'd hoped for. Sleep finally claimed him.

 

**~**~**

 

Even though the days were filled with distractions, skating, dog walks, brief looks and wayward hands, the nights brought with them the uneasiness. It was like the days and their contents didn't matter, for as soon as the lights went out and Victor was ready to sleep, something inside him opened up a slit in the door of his mental defences, letting darkness fill the space. He knew what was outside, it had been tapping ever since the checkup, and now, it was knocking determinately. Asking him to open up, just a little more. Begging to be let in, finally. It was still courteous. Not really intrusive, but still making itself known.

So, the nightly questions continued. From being really unremarkable and sometimes even repetitive, they'd began to morph into something else, something threatening to spiral out of control. Something that had lost its original intention and suddenly borderlined sheer desperation. They were still there, the thoughts, keeping Victor's mind busy. Keeping his of fear of relaxing and the fear of letting his guard down at bay. But with the building desperation, that fear slowly became something overpowering and culminated as questions that mirrored what he felt inside. Although, unbeknownst to him.

He'd been going through the new routine. Kissing Yuuri goodnight. Turning off the light. Listening to breaths getting successively slower, heavier next to him. Then, he'd been getting closer, yearning any kind of contact. Then, the initial question, it was always the same. 'Are you awake, love'. And, as always, he'd been getting the only answer he could ever wish for, the answer that made his entire being sigh out of fleeting comfort. 'Mhm. What's on your mind, Vitya'.

Then, the questions that acted as his cloak of deception, his ruse, started to pour out of him. 'What do you want for dinner tomorrow', 'Can you clip Makka's claws when you have time', 'Can you use the heat rub on me'. And as always, Yuuri answered. Patient despite being woken up, ever so calm and encouraging with hands looking for his. 'You choose, I can cook', 'Of course, I'll do it after the morning walk', 'I'm sorry it's still aching'.

After that initial barrage, Victor quivered inside. He didn't feel satisfied. He felt  _worse_. His thoughts were ravaging him, breaking him, tearing into him. What a difference a day makes. From being untouchable, impossible to scathe,  _invincible_  to something despicable, weak,  _mortal_. Just like that, although nothing had  _happened_. Although nothing had  _changed_.

"Victor?" Yuuri's voice was still raspy after his, albeit brief, sleep. "What… I mean, why are youㅡ"

"What are we going to do?" The last syllable rolled off Victor's tongue, impossible to reclaim or undo. Instinctively, he held his breath. Consciously, he didn't know why. Unconsciously, he realised all was riding on the response.

Strangely, the pause, the lack of immediate validation, said too much, if not all. Yuuri was fighting too. Without him picking up on it. When the answer finally came, it was in the form of a counter question. A first, intruding on Victor's new routine.

"About what?" Yuuri's voice was low. Hesitant. Defiant despite its tone, Victor thought.

He felt floored by the question, how Yuuri suddenly didn't feel as compassionate and in tune with him. Not as pliant and accommodative. How false he was, keeping things from him.

"Victor? What are we going to do about  _what_?"

Inside, Victor erupted. "Nevermind," he hissed and got out of bed. Heading… anywhere. Away from him, feeling that Yuuri had used up his chance.

"Viㅡ"

"Don't!"

"No, stop!"

Victor heard Yuuri scramble out of bed behind him, naked feet hitting the floor. Yuuri's fingers were touching his back, a fleeting heat before he hurried on, heading towards the kitchen. He wasn't thirsty, but he still opened the cupboard and brought out a glass, closing it with slightly too much force.

"Victor?"

He felt angry, hearing his name being repeated like that. Hearing that tone in Yuuri's voice, that annoying,  _no_ , imperious,  _no_ , dishonest,  _NO_ ㅡ

No. Yuuri wasn't like that. That wasn't him. He never sounded like that.

"I… Vic… you're scaring me. Do you hear me?"

Heat seeped into him, into his back. Hands rested lightly on his elbows. This was Yuuri. It was, it really was. That gentle energy, always asking for permission. Trying, without words, to get close, to console, to put pieces back together where they should be. This was Yuuri.

He put down the glass, still empty, on the surface next to the sink. Other thoughts were occupying him completely, now. Making him slow down inside, if only momentarily. Making him come to his senses.  _What happened just now? Did I… oh, I did! I really did! Why?!_

"I worry about you. How are you? Huh? What's wrong?"

Yuuri's voice started to grow distant, muted with every passing beat. But Victor's own, that voice inside that acts as your inner dialogue partner, screamed.

It was a cacophony. A discord. Thoughts upon thoughts, worries upon worries, misgivings upon misgivings crowding inside, preventing anything else from getting in. Successfully blocking out words of love, words of encouragement, words of understanding.

Victor thought he felt something, a touch of some sort, but for some reason, it lingered. Stayed on his skin, rushing through him and rallying nerves upon nerves. Not at all as brief and fleeting as touches go. Then, he realised that it was inside he felt it and with that realisation, something broke. He couldn't tell if something got loose, if something got damaged and fell apart. Maybe, it was a bit of both. Probably. As the sensation took over, spreading like a wildfire or a freezing wind and leaving a chaotic disarray of hot and cold, he bowed his head and fought himself to stay upright.

Just like that, hands travelled and felt his skin. Trying to get in contact with him, supporting him with the pressure and warmth they offered. Ready to brace if he couldn't himself. Asking him a million questions, begging a thousand times, but once, just once, demanding that he'd turn around.

So he did. He did turn around and when he felt skin against skin, heart against heart, he clambered on. He didn't fall, not this time. He stayed on his feet though his knees were buckling, a sensation of cool marble pressing into his lower back. And when it felt steady, when it felt like there was nothing that could possibly tear him down, he crumbled.

Although they stood there, as close as two people can be with arms around each other and emotions uncanningly in tune, Victor didn't want Yuuri to see. He didn't want him to see anything, not his anger, his sadness, his indescribable worry. He didn't want him to see the bad, the weak, the hopelessness in him. He didn't want him to see… him. For that was what he was now. Angry, sad, worried. Reduced into something bad, weak and hopeless, something not worthy of the love, the care, the attention he so desperately sought.

The groove of Yuuri's shoulder, the place where it met his neck, became his anchor. He wanted to speak into it, tell it everything without having to deal with any consequences. He wanted, no, needed it to be all of that he then realised he wasn't.

"Why," Victor managed to utter, annoyed that the shoulder now had become slippery and more difficult to rest against. "Why are you still here?"

A small sigh paved the way for the answer, muted and purposeful. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Y-you know that it's going to get worse? So much worse." Victor hated that his breath was stuttering, that his words vibrated.

"You don't knowㅡ"

He dug in his fingers in Yuuri's naked back, getting a small yelp in return. He needed him to be quiet, but he was afraid to tell him this. Something was close to being released into the open, something he almost feared as much as what could, would, maybe even did fester inside him. Something he felt he was slowly losing control over.

Yuuri didn't take the hint. "You don't know that, Victor," he whispered.

Why did his words provoke him so? Why did they head straight in? Why did they find that part of him, that small part of him that was too impatient, too volatile, too fragile without so much as a slight hesitation?

"It will," he replied through gritted teeth, fingers still digging in. "It will, Yuuri. And you will be disgusted. You'll come to hate me, what I'll become. You'll want to run, get out. You… you'll wish that you never had to see it in the first place."

"Viㅡ"

"And I don't want you to. I don't want you to see that! Why, Yuuri? Why are you still here?!" He sobbed, the emotional response to voicing thoughts he had only played with before. For he wanted to spare him, he wanted him to be saved before it could pick up speed. Before the both of them would be dragged down. It would be better that way, to let him go. To make him remain unscathed. If it had to come to it, to push him away, thenㅡ

"I love you.  _Vitya_ , I love you."

ㅡhe would still want him close. Just like this. With hands moving across him, finding every little wayward piece. Gathering them up, carrying them. Putting them together with a mishmash of words, touches, emotions, desires. Soothing, mending, comforting, consoling. Just like this. Exactly like this.

"I'm scared. I'm so scared… wh-what if..."

The unfinished sentence lingered in the air. Instead of replying, or maybe that was exactly what he was doing, Yuuri's hands ended up touching him, caressing his head and back slowly and repeatedly. Indeed, gathering up all the pieces of him that were adrift. Definitely soothing and mending.

"Go back to bed," he heard Yuuri whisper.

Strange, how he always seemed to know when to use words instead of actions. It was like he understood when words were safe, when the tension had dissipated.

Victor felt Yuuri wiggle himself free from the fingers digging into his back and the head resting on his shoulder. He tried to ease up on his grip, but it was too difficult to do. Like he was letting go in ways uncountable.

"I'll be right there. Okay?" Yuuri's hand touched Victor's cheek.

Again, Yuuri knew. Victor was sure of it, of the fact that he could read him, see into him. He knew what to do and when to do it to make it easier. But despite the fact, Victor couldn't look at him, not yet, for he felt ashamed. He was still torn between protecting and wanting to be protected. Between standing strong and feeling small.

With an almost invisible nod, he walked back to bed and buried his face into the pillow. Tried to breathe as he counted the seconds leading up to minutes before he heard Yuuri's feet in the hallway outside of the bedroom.

* * *

Yuuri listened to the sound of Victor's feet. They were becoming more muted with every step, and eventually, they were exchanged by the whispering sound of duvets being pushed aside, the low creak of the bedframe as Victor reclined.

When it became completely silent, Yuuri finally dared to exhale. He knew it, he'd seen it. He'd felt it, even days before but he had refused to believe it. Victor was shattering.

The understanding made him cover his mouth with his hand, stifling a cry. He realised that he didn't know what he was supposed to do, hence his honest answer when Victor had asked him before. He just didn't know what he was supposed to do. For even though the both of them had found a crack in the ice, a pocket of air where the both of them had fought tooth and nail to remain close to, Yuuri knew that it was true.  _It_ would come back. Maybe not now, probably not now, but it would. There wasn't any doubt. And what would happen then? What were they going to do? What could they do?

Yuuri knew he wanted Victor to fight it, when it was time. He knew he wanted Victor to do all in his power to stay with him, to be his just a little while longer. But seeing this change in Victor, seeing him fragile and worried, so far from what he knew Victor to be, made Yuuri afraid.

_Are you giving up?_

The whimper was muted by his hand. No, anything but that. That wasn't Victor. Defeat wasn't a word he knew, it wasn't known to him how to graciously bow and step down. Victor was a fighter, one that stayed on top. But then again…

He put his other hand in front of his mouth. He couldn't let Victor hear this, he realised. Not now. Not when the both of them were walking a tightrope. But pressing down his sorrow, his premature grief, didn't scatter the thoughts, the thoughts that made him understand that Victor had started to… prepare?

Yuuri sat down on his heels, blinking back the tears, choking the wail that got caught in his hands, making them warm and wet. He suddenly got an impulse, thinking that it was probably just his imagination. Yes, that's how it was. His imagination. Running rampant due to Victor being frail, due to the checkup, due to… Victor retiring from skating? Victor turning away from social media? Victor keeping secrets? Victor isolating him?

The edge of the countertop felt cool against his fingers as he grabbed it and pulled himself up on his feet. He felt sick, nauseated. If he couldn't keep himself occupied until the crashing wave inside him had retreated, then going to bed was out of the question. There was no way he would confront Victor with his need of support and reassurance. Also, being close to him in bed, feeling his energy seep into him would have consequences he knew that he couldn't handle.

He sniffed and dried his eyes with his arm before he opened one of the cupboards. Standing on the tips of his toes, he reached the topmost shelf and took down a small metal box. The light metal clink when he put the box on the countertop sounded like a gunshot in the quiet of the flat. He picked out a small jar and left the box where it was, before retreating to the bedroom.

"Victor? Victor? Are you asleep?" Yuuri barely breathed.

"Uhmm… no, I-I'm awake."

"You were, weren't you? I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you." He unscrewed the lid of the jar, and put it on his bedside table. "Lie still, okay?"

Yuuri placed himself next to Victor and folded his legs underneath himself. This would keep him occupied, he would concentrate on this and nothing else. He would stay in this moment, relish the feeling, the sight, the smell. This moment together with him, his bleeding fighter.

He dipped his fingers into the jar a couple of times and scooped out a generous dollop of heat rub.

"Tell me if I'm too rough," he whispered into Victor's ear before he started to massage him, working the ointment into his muscles.

"Never," Victor moaned in reply.

Yuuri pressed his palms into Victor's back, and allowed his fingers to glide and knead Victor's muscles. The repetitive motions, the low groans he pressed out of Victor, the giving and the receiving of the act, made him ready to ask a question of his own. Just one, nothing more and nothing less.

"Victor? Why this, why today?"

The groans became small huffs instead, not as lustful and immediate, but no answer came. Not at first. It took a while before they met in an understanding, when Victor finally spoke.

"It's a year today."

Yuuri froze. In that second, he realised that he didn't know the exact date when Victor had been diagnosed. Not until now.

His mind took flight, retraced what he could remember of the year before. Preparing for Worlds, winning gold, skating his heart out for Victor to see at the exhibition. Getting whisked off surprisingly and, his heart clenched when he remembered it, getting married. Coming home, taking a shower and then… he was told all of that Victor had carried within himself for, what, weeks alone.

A sting of anger rippled through Yuuri. He immediately tapped into the mindset he had been in then. A disbelieving, angry, disappointed and panicked state of mind. He couldn't let his first reaction go, it was impossible to push it away. Victor had been keeping up appearances, tricking him into thinking that their vows were meant to last forever, charming him into being closer to him. Making them inseparable even though he had known that they were toㅡ

_No! If anything, Victor was suffering!_  Yuuri felt his lip quiver.

"Oh?" He kept his voice low. That way, he wouldn't be able to betray himself. "I didn't… I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Victor said nothing, but he moved underneath his hands. Begged for them to continue what they were doing, moments before.

So he did. Found the rhythm again, silently pushing and pulling.

"Do… do you feel sick?"  _Please be honest with me. Please, Vitya._

"No. I don't. It's nothing like last time."

Yuuri continued in silence, memorising every gift his senses gave him. How it looked, seeing Victor's muscles respond to his touch. How it felt, having his hands on him. How it smelled, the combination of heat rub and Victor's own scent. How it sounded, the muted noise of his hands, slippery against Victor and Victor's pleasurable sighs. How it tasted, when he kissed Victor on his slightly parted lips, a kiss Victor never would be aware of for he had drifted off to sleep.

He kept his hand against Victor's side for a while. His ribcage was expanding, his heart was beating. Feeling that against his palm, Victor's life speaking to him, relaxed him some. Made him even more anxious thinking about the fact that it would get silent at some point.

With a small sigh, Yuuri got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to wash his hands. As he lathered them up, he counted the days in his head.

_365._ The amount of days Victor had been relentlessly fighting.

_102._ The amount of days since Victor last skated with him.

_76._  The amount of days since Victor's last birthday.

_68._  The amount of days they lived, completely without fear.

_17._ The amount of days left until Worlds.

_9._ The amount of days that had passed since the checkup.

_5._  The amount of days left until they could receive the call.

_0._ The amount of days, hours, minutes, seconds and moments he couldn't picture himself without him.

Yuuri turned off the faucet and reached for the neatly folded towel next to the basin. He dried his eyes instead of his hands before he left the bathroom. Intent on counting, forevermore.


	49. Year Two: Spring, part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

When the call eventually came, it was two days overdue. Two days with their forty eight hours, close to three thousand minutes and an uncountable amount of seconds. Two days unfathomably long and painstakingly difficult to live through.

Naturally, the wait affected them, for waiting and hoping are things tightly woven together with human nature, as well as they are with each other. You can't have one without the other, because when you wait, you automatically hope for something and that was exactly how it was for them. They waited, hoping that nothing would become different after something as simple as a phone call.

When the call eventually came, they were at the rink. More in body than anything else, going through parts of Yuuri's programs because that was what people expected of them. Maybe, it was what they expected of each other too. To keep up the normality until proven that they couldn't anymore.

"I think," Victor said, with a finger to his lips and a slight frown, "that when the crescendo comes, you know, at the 'Amandum quae', you can actually go out of the spin a little bit faster. Then you can do the lifting motion with your arms as you start the step sequence. Try it."

Yuuri said nothing as he wiped his brow with his sleeve and headed off, his skates hissing as he sped up and entered the spin.

"Prepare now! You have to go out in three, two, and go! Good! And then… that's it. Much better! Great job, Yuuri. Again! Make sure you feel it inside, okay? When toㅡ"

For some reason, Victor knew. He knew that his phone was about to ring, like it emitted some kind of energy in his pocket that his body picked up on. Like the invisible waves gave him a jab, an electric shock, giving him a heads-up, a head start, one more second to prepare.

"ㅡgo." He paused. Feeling the vibrations. This time, they were real. His phone buzzed against his hip, the muted ringtone acting as a painful reminder that the waiting was over. Now, they could only hope.

"It's ringing," Victor said. Maybe he directed it to Yuuri, maybe it was to convince himself of the fact although he knew, but his hand found its way down into the pocket of his coat as to make sure one final time. He saw Yuuri stop out on the ice, his eyes trying to connect with his blue. Asking questions he couldn't possibly have any answers to. Questions he never wanted to hear, not out loud nor asked by looks.

"It's them," he said, his eyes skimming across the screen.

"Answer," Yuuri replied, suddenly coming closer. Suddenly touching Victor in ways he couldn't understand. The touches were erratic, nervous,  _afraid._ Like he was trying his best to comfort himself but failing miserably. Like he was trying to act as a support, but only making it worse.

He held his breath as he answered. He was afraid. Afraid to hear what the voice on the other end would say to him. Afraid that if he took a breath, his heart would explode. He felt his pulse everywhere, making it seem like a very possible outcome.

" _Hi, this is Victor."_

" _Hi, Victor. I'm Galina Delova, nurse at the oncology clinic. We have received your MRI results, finally. I'm sorry, I know waiting can be a horrible experience."_

" _No, it's…"_ Of course, it wasn't.

" _Good,"_ the nurse continued, her voice sounding slow as she spoke. " _The reason I'm calling is that we would like you to come in and meet with the doctor."_

" _Meet? Why meet_ _ㅡ"_

" _It's standard procedure."_

He desperately tried to understand what that meant. Desperately tried to read into what she was saying. He must have tensed up, given some sort of cue due to the understanding that this was different, for Yuuri's hands dug into him. Into his elbow and side, needing answers too.

He took a few steps back, felt the fingers around his elbow slip and release him but trying their best to hold on, to pull him back. He put up the hand not holding the phone to signal a 'not now, please'.

The few steps back made the back of his knees collide with the bench behind him, so he allowed them to give in. Allowed himself to sit down, like it would make him more set on listening and understanding. Like it would make it easier, somehow.

" _Standard procedure,"_  he repeated.

" _Yes. Can you come in this week, Victor?"_

" _This week? Yes, I… When?"_

" _I realise that it might be tight given such short notice, but tomorrow, would that work for you? If not, then Friday?"_

" _I… uh, I have to_ _ㅡ"_

He lowered the phone and ended up with his hand holding it, resting on his knee. The small time indicator on the screen of his phone continued to press on. Forty-five seconds, forty-six, forty-seven.

"What's going on?" Yuuri's voice, demanding. Demanding too much. Demanding answers out of reach, unattainable to them.

"They, uh…"

A minute. Somehow, it felt better looking at the phone, the seconds ever adding, but he still glanced at Yuuri. Just briefly.

Yuuri was ready to climb over to his side it looked like, ready to leave the ice and join him. His hands were bracing, holding on to the boards, gripping the edge like he needed something to ground him. Or let him take flight it was hard to tell.

"They want us to come in. Tomorrow," Victor breathed.

"Oh."

They looked at each other then. Blue eyes, vibrating and getting lost witnessing a future undisclosed to anyone else. Brown eyes, steady and tearing through veils and veils of badly disguised worry. Realising that the wait was far from over, realising that hope was the only thing keeping them from falling.

"Should we?" Victor didn't even blink when saying that. He was serious, for in his mind, that was an option too. To not go, to not find out and ultimately, to not care about what could possibly go on inside him. Just take one day at a time in blissful cluelessness.

"What? What do you..." Yuuri's voice died out as the meaning of Victor's words seemingly rooted themselves inside him. And that was when he took the leap, heaved himself over the boards with nothing resembling the elegance of a figure skater but instead, looking very much like something desperate with everything to lose.

Victor could only watch as Yuuri went down on his knees as soon as his skates touched the rubber floor on the other side of the boards. He felt Yuuri's hands around his calves, on his knees. Again, that pawing, those touches full of anguish. Only adding to the already unbearable he felt inside.

"We need to, Victor. We… we must. W-we're going. Right? Right?!"

" _Victor? Are you there?"_

It would have been so easy to say no. No to everything in that moment. No to everything that was to come. Victor thought about it, to just press the screen and end the call. But seeing Yuuri, his eyes large, aqueous and pleading, made him put the phone up to his ear again.

" _Yes, I… I'm here. Tomorrow, you said?"_

" _Oh! Uh, yes. If you can."_ She sounded surprised to him. Like she had been prepared to do the same, to just end the call and go about her day. Not giving them a second thought. " _You can come in on Friday instead as I said. If you'd like."_

" _No,"_  Victor responded. " _Tomorrow is… is fine. What time?"_

" _Ten, if that's possible for you?"_

" _Yes. I, no, we'll be there."_

" _Good. Take care until then. Have a good day, Victor."_

He laughed when he put his hand, still holding the phone, on his thigh. Like the pleasantry he'd just heard was a joke. In all honesty, it kind of was. Although incredibly cruel and just as unintentional. Just as impossible.

"Do you want to practise some more?" His free hand found Yuuri's, still gripping his knee. It sounded strange to him, how easy it was to pretend that the call didn't happen with the use of words alone. But inside, the words he'd just spoken carried with them a discord beyond compare.

"No," Yuuri replied, his forehead resting against the side Victor's thigh. "I don't want to. I… I want to go home."

"Go and stretch, then."

"No. I'll just change, then we can go."

The pressure against Victor's thigh and knee disappeared when Yuuri stood up and put on his skate guards, slowly walking away towards the locker room without as much as a glance over his shoulder afterwards. Victor didn't bother using the moment he got to himself. He just stood up and did the same. He walked away, without looking back.

* * *

They walked home, the both of them lost. One lost due to thinking too much, the other lost due to not thinking enough. They shared their fears unknowingly, although they couldn't voice them out loud. Although they couldn't possibly tell the other. Maybe they thought that the fears would become true once passed over lips and tongues, once being heard by someone else. So they kept their silence. And kept to themselves.

For one of them, though, the silence became too much. When passing over the Anichkov bridge, a hand started to search for another in order to speak another language. Today, they didn't stop to look at the bronze statues of the rearing stallions like they used to, frozen in an eternal dance and unwilling to be tamed and ruled over by men, which made the hand's struggles more difficult.

After a few botched tries, Yuuri's index finger got hold of Victor's little finger. Just a touch for starters, becoming a grasp soon thereafter. But they didn't stop. Or look at each other, which was just as good, Yuuri realised. He wondered what would happen if they were to stop, there on the bridge. If they were to draw attention to themselves if movement ceased to conceal them in the crowd.

"What did she say?" Yuuri breathed. "What did she say,  _exactly_?"

Victor didn't respond, not at first. Instead, the odd drops of rain began to multiply, becoming a hissing veil covering them and the streets of St. Petersburg. That was telling enough, the rain. How it seemed like the world was weeping, just for them. Then, Victor answered. Without stopping or looking.

"She said it was standard procedure."

"She didn't say anythㅡ"

"No. Tomorrow, at ten."

He probably should have listened to the tone in Victor's voice, how definite it was, how tired it was, but Yuuri wasn't content with the answer. Nor was he comfortable with what was going on between them. Nothing had happened, really, but it seemed like it had. Something too vast to even try comprehending. Something that felt uncharted, uncomfortable and uncertain. He couldn't bear it, the change that was effectively dividing them.

"What are you thinking?"

He heard Victor scoff next to him, but he refrained himself from looking. Even though the sound acted like a siren's song and did everything in its power to draw him in, to make his eyes search for Victor's, he looked straight ahead. Through the drops of rain beading on his glasses, through the tears of the world.

"Are you angry?"  _With me_ , he wanted to add. But before he could get that far, make his mouth catch up with his mind, he was awarded with a sigh. Not a languorous, sorrowful sigh that would have felt better, but one matching that scoff from before. A quick exhale that told him to stop, to not take another step down that path.

"I can't… I can't do anything? Can I? Nothing I can say will ever make a differㅡ"

"Yuuri! That's enough!"

They stopped, a few metres shy of rounding the corner. A few metres shy of the final stretch, almost being home. And, finally, they looked at each other.

Seeing the blur in those blue eyes, that furrowing brow, that clenched jaw, made Yuuri realise but one thing. It had become harder and harder for him to recognise Victor. The two weeks that had passed were a painful reminder of the different state of things. How the two of them were shifting, changing, right before each other. How Victor had become more needy, more insecure, more fragile. But also, more irritable, fiery and uncompromising. Like now. And how he himself had become… he couldn't explain it. Not even to himself. There was a feeling inside of tiptoeing, of not waking the horrors looming even more so than before. Although, it was different now. He wasn't only trying to pacify himself.

"Don't be angry with me," he said, making his own conclusions and daring to reveal them. Again, trying not to stir anything by using a tone of voice that surprised him. He sounded submissive in his own ears, apologetic even, but it was of no use.

"You're not allowed to tell me what I should feel or not! What to think or not! I swear, if you were the one dyㅡ"

The world was weeping, just for them. Of that, Yuuri became sure when Victor stopped himself mid-sentence. He looked at Victor then, trying to understand what those words had done to the both of them, where the words had taken and left them. With every breath, he could feel Victor's words inside himself. Making him cold, colder than the rain ever could. With every heartbeat he could see the effects of them, plunging deeper inside the both of them, tearing into them like bullets from a gun. Victor's words ended up meaning a million different things, although they couldn't possibly be misunderstood.

Inside himself, Yuuri knew that he would do anything,  _anything_ , to be able to switch places. If he could… oh, if he only could take the pain away, if he only could make the defeated remnant of a man in front of him anything but, he wouldn't think twice saying yes.

He sniffed, maybe due to the rain finding its way inside his nose but, then again, probably not. He took one step closer, his hand slightly outstretched. He wanted to touch him, to see if he still was real despite the words that hurt, despite the thoughts that raced, despite the emotions that had started to stir.

Seeing how Victor bowed his head and suddenly turned his back against him, made Yuuri close the space between them with half a step. His hands touched Victor's coat, drenched and heavy from the rain.

"Please. Please, please, please, Victor…"

Yuuri's hands picked up on what his eyes couldn't, even though they were locked on the neck and shoulders of the one he considered to be the stronger one of the two of them. The slightest of shivers, a barely noticeable vibration. But it was enough. Enough to make him feel helpless. Too small and insignificant to matter.

"Please… Victor, please don't…"

Maybe it was a silly thing to do considering the state of himself but also, the state of Victor, but his arms found their way around that billowing body. Searching for the other pair of hands that were buried in the pockets of that soaked coat, and gripping them ever so tightly once he found them.

"You don't know yet! You don't, so please… don't act like you do! We're not there yet and… I can't," he sobbed into the back that had carried him, strengthened him, relieved him. Through his struggles to draw breath, he understood that it was different now, so very different.

Yuuri felt his fingers being laced together, hidden by the depths of the pockets of the coat. They were squeezed hard, fitting perfectly in between Victor's, braided together like a lover's knot with a pattern only they could create.

"I'm sorry..."

It was a relief to hear Victor, that whisper. Yuuri felt his fingers being released, the pressure slowly disappearing around them as Victor turned around, catching him in an embrace that pressed the air out of him instead.

" _I'm_  sorry," Yuuri said feebly, not knowing which reason of many to feel sorry for. Not knowing why the response was so automatic, as Victor's fingers dug into his back and his hair.

"Of… of two evils, this is the lesser one." Victor's voice quaked. "It… is. It is, love. You understand?"

He didn't, not at that moment. So he let his heart voice its opinion, its one true desire. "I just want to be with you. Right here, just like this."

"Crying, out in the rain?" It sounded like Victor laughed as he said that, but Yuuri was held too close, too tight against Victor's shoulder to be able to make sure. In fact, he had stopped being sure of anything some time ago.

"Anywhere. Anywhere with you," he answered with a breaking voice. Moved by the sincerity of his own words, like no other truth could ever matter. Like he had come to realise a certainty, a life's rule he would never deviate from as long as they had time together, making him both thankful and afraid. Of that, he was sure.

"Then," Victor said quietly, easing up on the embrace much to Yuuri's regret, "can't we go home? I'm freezing."

Out in the rain, it's impossible to distinguish your own tears from that of the world's. In that moment, that moment characterised by needs and wants, hopes and dreams, Yuuri decided that it didn't matter. Whether their faces became wet due to the barrage of raindrops or that of tears, it was still grief shared between them. Something much more profound than joy or frustration. Something more intimate than anything else.

With a sigh, he held Victor's face in between his hands. Studying those eyes, those lips, that nose. Memorising them, what they looked like being wet. What they looked like with distress as their fuel. What they looked like, for they were all small and important pieces of him. Making him who he was.

As his lips touched Victor's, the pressure staying soft and never building, Yuuri hoped that the kisses could do something he couldn't, at least not with words.

He wanted them to make everything feel normal again.

* * *

There comes a time when new routines become nothing but unnecessary. When questions posed to settle a nervousness become obsolete. When no possible answer can ever mend, soothe or calm what is erupting from within. When no slow and rhythmic heartbeat could ever act as contagious. When the will and need to live ache inside, becoming all and everything, consuming every second awake and claiming every moment asleep. Victor understood all of that, and that night, he was rendered sleepless.

Even though he'd tried, done everything that previously had pulled him away from the precipice, Victor found himself closer to the edge. Trying to have his weight on his heels in order to brace himself, to prevent himself with the simplest of means not to tip over and fall.

As soon as he heard Yuuri's breathing change, those slow breaths that usually made him join in on Yuuri's journey through the night, he got out of bed. It was a final and desperate act to chase the thoughts away, he realised that, but it was better than trying. Trying to remain unaffected, trying to sleep, trying to pretend that he was more than what he was.

He walked out to the living room and placed himself in the sofa and grabbed the thick woolen blanket hanging over the armrest, meticulously wrapping it around himself. He shivered, but he wasn't cold. There was tension coursing through him. A tension that ended up knotting in his stomach, muddling his mind. Produced an aching in his heart. He wanted to move, run, he wanted his body to make his mind go blank through exertion, but it was a fight he couldn't win. His body was incapacitated, a prisoner in itself.

The phrase 'what if' needed an answer, holding him hostage. Strange how it could be applied to every single thing, every single thought, every single question. What if it was back? What if it was worse? What if it wasn't treatable? What ifㅡ

_What if it'll make you leave me?_ A small sound escaped him as the thought started to repeat itself. He didn't even think of suppressing it, the sound or the thought, nor did he do anything when he felt that closed up feeling in his throat. When his mouth felt dry and thick. When he felt tears draw lines across his face and fall down into his lap, without him even blinking them away.

"I wish it could be me."

Victor flinched where he sat. Not knowing if it was Yuuri's voice breaking the silence, Yuuri's hands suddenly touching him or the still disguised meaning of Yuuri's words that horrified him.

He was embraced, bundled up from behind. Yuuri was warm. Warm and certain in his action, intent on saying something else it seemed. After a myriad of fluttering touches, Yuuri's lips on Victor's neck, Victor heard him whisper into his ear. The one phrase he had never wanted to hear, the one phrase that he'd feared Yuuri utter ever since he lost his temper, earlier in the rain.

"I wish it could be me leaving you instead. I would… I would save you if I could."

It was as if Yuuri's words opened up something inside. Like his words let that something in, the something that had been patient. Tapping, knocking whilst it waited for the perfect opportunity.

It had found it, it seemed. The perfect opportunity. As it entered, it felt oily. Suffocating. Like it was possible to be drowned without being in contact with anything liquid. And just like that, panic grew inside Victor. He needed to reach the surface, not knowing if he was facing the right direction, if he was supposed to go up or down. So he clambered on. Let his fingers dig into the arms he knew were around him, the hair that he knew was tickling his cheek.

He swallowed. Swallowed. Swallowed the thickness that never went away. The pressure that just wouldn't ease up. The distress clawing its way out. But it claimed him, more and more. Like swallowing made it find other ways to seep into him.

When standing at the precipice, when the feeling of tipping over isn't as much as a feeling anymore but rather, a fact, something primal takes over. Self preservation, conatus, will to live. For Victor, it brought out a scream. One last try to save himself, like words could purge.

"Don't you say that! Don't you  _ever_ say that to me!"

It felt muffled, almost far away, but the pressure around him had changed somehow. It didn't come from behind anymore. It was against him, on him, around him in a different way from before. A constant pressure, a warm pressure. A pressure doing its best to keep him where he was, to make him stay together. To reach out a hand, to prevent him from falling.

"Victor… Oh, Victor…"

Why did he feel so far away? Why did it feel like Yuuri's words were happening? Anything but that.  _Anything!_

"I love you. I love you. You know that, right? I will never leave. You know that? You're scared, I know. I know. I'm here. Please, Victor, just… shh. Shh. Breathe a little."

He followed that voice. Searched for it, lost it, found it, then lost it again. He swam around in the dark, without a guiding light. Suddenly, it felt clear and close. Like a gentle warmth against his cheek, recognisable and tender. Then, Victor breathed.

 

**~**~**

 

It's a natural law. After every storm, there comes a calm. After a state of chaos, order always follow. A moment when everything that has been sundered gets a chance to slowly rebuild. For most people, the moment of calm and order is long enough to make that resilience grow strong, unwavering once again. At least, until the next trial.

Victor knew that, but he knew that he didn't have the time. The next trial was incoming, too soon.

"You need to sleep."

Even though Yuuri's words came from a place of concern, Victor couldn't possibly accommodate his wish. Even though he felt drained, exhausted, his mind and body had finally agreed on something. Sleep would bring his next trial close, and mind and body didn't want that. They wanted to bob around in the calmness that now was, fully aware. On high alert.

"I can't," he responded truthfully.

Yuuri hummed, a soft sound in his chest. Hearing that, Victor made the assumption that Yuuri probably knew too. What was incoming, what was happening too soon. Although, he didn't react to it.

"Victor?"

"Yeah?"

"A-about the MRI. You having to go in and meet with the doctor? You don't think it really is standard procedure?"

Victor didn't respond to that. He just listened, for he knew that Yuuri had been thinking. Coming to some sort of conclusion.

"I mean," Yuuri continued, "it doesn't have to… I mean, it doesn't have to be…"

_Just say it. Love, just fucking say it._

"It doesn't have to be bad news? MRI, it's… different from ordinary x-rays. Right? They see other things."

Victor shifted a little, just enough for him to put his ear against Yuuri's chest. His heart sounded calm, that steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Yuuri really believed what he was saying, Victor realised. He wasn't trying to make things better, he was only voicing his honest view.

"And, I  _think_ ," Yuuri said, "that it might be difficult for them to explain things without showing the images? Right? It doesn't have to mean anything else. What… what you think it does. Also, you've done that before. Right?"

"Mhm."

"You went to see the doctor that time too, right?"

"Right."

"Then… I mean, you… you might be fine. You  _are_  fine."

After a moment of silence, gently fighting over the limited space of the sofa by entwining arms and legs, Victor sighed. Deeply, like the breath he let out was just as heavy as the question he needed to ask.

"Honey. Yuuri. What… what if I'm… not fine? What then?"

Instantly, Yuuri's hands were on his back. Like he was trying to hold together all of what had shattered from before. And with a low voice, he spoke.

"You… you'll get treatment. And I'll be… I'll be going with you this time. Every single time."

"Every time?" For some reason, Victor found Yuuri's answer amusing. Like he'd forgotten what they were aiming for. Worlds. Team Trophy. And thenㅡ

"Every time. I promise."

"And if I can't?" Victor held his breath, hesitantly waiting.

"Can't what?" Yuuri's hands were in Victor's hair, languorously sifting through the short and prickly strands. His hair, the proof of his year long fight. His most obvious battlescar.

"If treatment'sㅡ"

Yuuri's hand found Victor's mouth, the collision leaving a sting on his lips. That hand, it was stopping the taboo from being voiced, even though it was probably needed to be heard. Long overdue. And against his ear, Victor could hear Yuuri's heart race. He understood. It was obvious that he did.

"Y-you…  _you_ don't get to say that to  _me_."

Yuuri eased up on the pressure seconds after, leaving behind a dissipating heat on and around Victor's lips.

To Victor, it felt like a test of confidence. Like a dare. Like Yuuri was saying to him that if he continued, he would break the trust.

"When?" He whispered this, like the low volume would make it less threatening. To the both of them, for Victor felt that his heart was racing too.

Yuuri shifted underneath him, telling Victor to move or at least ease up on the pressure from being on top of him, which he did. As soon as Yuuri had gotten to his feet, he walked off without a word. Heading towards the bedroom.

And just like that, it felt like a storm was brewing anew, making Victor call out into the darkness of the flat. "Yuuri! When?!" He caught his breath. "When?!"

Then he saw Yuuri appear. Carrying duvets and pillows, being followed by a disgruntled Makkachin who apparently had been sleeping soundly.

"If you can't sleep, I'll bring sleep to you," Yuuri said. "Sit up, please."

So he did. He sat up and watched Yuuri take off his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. His body instantly reacting to what he saw, making the storm subside. Making him feel even more exhausted due to violent twists and turns, high and lows happening too quick to comprehend.

"Come," Yuuri whispered as he reclined, arms outstretched, beckoning him to return to him, to the warmth of his embrace and to the rhythm of his heart.

So he did. Now, Yuuri's heart was calm again. Like the violent pace from before had been nothing but a figment of his imagination.

"Seriously, now?" Yuuri whispered, a teasing tone in his voice, when Victor settled against him.

"My body loves yours," Victor shrugged, pulling the duvet over them both. "Always has, always will."

"You're being silly. Sleep."

"You owe me an answer first, love."

Victor felt fingers against his chin, and he instantly knew that a pair of dark eyes were looking for his. So he gave in to the slight pressure. Even though it was too dark to see them completely, those eyes he loved, how they were and what they were saying, he felt a tranquility meeting them.

"When, you asked?"

"Yes," he replied, wishing he could see those dark eyes that always did the talking when Yuuri's words couldn't.

"Tomorrow. Then, we'll know. Right?" Yuuri said, giving the top of Victor's head a gentle poke.

That was the only answer Victor had hoped for. Although it said nothing, absolutely nothing at all, it was enough. Giving him a moment of solace, taking away some of the responsibilities, some of the burden.

"Disappointed?" He asked as Yuuri retracted his finger.

"No. It's still there," Yuuri smiled, his teeth showing in the dark.

Strangely, that smile took Victor hostage. Made him believe that there was a possibility that Yuuri could be right. That there wasn't anything looming, that their everyday life would continue undisturbed. That they would be allowed to live and love, together for some time yet.

With that thought acting as a psychological panacea, Victor kissed him. He kissed his student, his lover, his best friend, his husband. His Yuuri. Each and every part of him, each and every piece that made him into who he was. The urgency building with every meeting, every meeting demanding more contact, more hands, more licks, more bites, more tongues.

"We-we're not doing, n-no sex on the sofa," Yuuri panted, suddenly mewling into Victor's mouth.

"This isn't sex," Victor replied with a coo, breaking away from Yuuri's eager but conflicted lips. "It's just simple appreciation."

After a few quick kisses to Yuuri's neck, Victor whispered in his ear, "I can suck you, love. I never make a mess, you know that."

"Viㅡ"

"I. Love. Every. Last. Drop. Of. You," Victor hummed between kisses, effectively interrupting Yuuri's feeble interjections time and time again. "Hm? What do you say?"

"No, w-we should sleep. We really should, ahh, sleep.  _Vitya_!"

With a chuckle, Victor kissed Yuuri deep. Counting the seconds, feeling a heat spreading with every beat. Feeling his stomach knotting, his mind muddling, his heart aching. If he was sure of anything, it would be the fact that he loved him. Him and no one else. That, Yuuri had taught him. How to love.

As he broke away, he hoped that he had stolen Yuuri's breath. For safekeeping, until later when he would come to need it himself.


	50. Year Two: Spring, part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

Victor remembered reading about it, once. Thinking back, he might have done it on a plane ride to somewhere. Read about it, that is. Apparently, the plane ride wasn't as memorable as the article for no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring out the details. Like where he was going, what he was supposed to do when he got there, if he felt apprehensive or excited. But the words, the black print on the white background in that in-flight magazine, stuck.

It said that people tend to remember chaos. Situations when they are in danger, when their lives are at stake. People who have gone through something threatening and lived to tell the tale, seem to agree on one thing and one thing only. When the scales of life and death seem to teeter in death's favor, everything slows down. And as everything slows down, your senses become heightened. Overly perceptive. And when you become overly perceptive, every single detail following that moment, that moment of tipping scales, becomes engraved in your mind. Etched in your soul. All your senses working together to make sure you remember what happened.

It happened for Victor too.

Like the smells. In the beginning; sweat and the warmth of two bodies being close. The smell of body wash, deodorant. Clean clothes, coffee, rye bread, dog food. Following; a citrusy scent, not his. A minty breath, not his. Pheromones, he was sure he sensed them too, being that close to wet, naked skin. Later; fresh air, wet pavement, the salt of the sea. Tobacco, exhaust fumes, strong perfume.

The tastes. In the beginning; the sulfuric hint of a morning mouth, a mix of his own and another's taste on his tongue. Salt prickling his lips, originating from a sweaty forehead. Warm water and its faint tang of iron, shampoo waxing and waning in his mouth. Following; bitterness of coffee, tartness of bread with an earthy undertone, freshness of toothpaste. Later; everything the morning brought, fading as his mouth goes dry.

The sounds. In the beginning; soft words spoken into his ear, his name being called. Soft moans, crackling joints, low creaks. Naked feet against bare floors. Running water following a 'you first, go ahead'. Sips and swallows. Following; questions all in sotto voce. Buttons being pressed, dings sounding briefly in passing. Steps, breaths, doors opening and closing. Later; the sounds of the world, crowding out everything else. A kiss, inaudible because of the world around them.

The sights. In the beginning; brown eyes looking into his. Naked skin against him, looking flushed then bumpy. Lips getting closer, and not only once. Brown fur, tiled walls, a brief glance of himself in the mirror. Water cascading, blurrying his eyes. Clothes obscuring the world. Following; brown eyes looking into his, as dark as the contents of his cup. A personal hallway becomes impersonal, just a few steps further. Later; the awakening of a city with people, traffic, lights, not thinking about them. And brown eyes, looking into his.

The touches. In the beginning; hands resting on his back, fingers playing up and down his spine. A heaving stomach invading him, lips fluttering against his own. Hands, hands, hands, asking him to stay and to go, touching him where it matters and sometimes where it doesn't. Pressure coming and going, trying to support and strengthen, asking for all of that in return. Following; a hand on his, a forehead against his, a cheek against his. A million of small connections, just between them. Trying to make sure of things beyond a touch. Later; pressure around his hand, a gentle squeeze, a firm grip. That hand later becomes a vice.

Victor remembered all of that. Every smell, every taste, every sound, every sight. Every single touch. And as he did, his senses making sure that he would never forget that day, he remembered the reason. The reason according to that article, the reason for the world slowing down and making his entire being latch on to every single thing with a desperation unfamiliar to him.

'When faced with danger, the human mind tries to find a way. It rallies. It goes through every available memory, every single situation no matter old or new with incomparable speed, making reality seem to slow down. All of this happens because the mind has but one purpose; to make sure the body stays alive, no matter the cost. And that demands an incredible focus'.

Something inside him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.  _The mind wants the body to stay alive. The_ mind  _wants the_ body  _to stay alive._ That might have worked for humans once, when reason had nothing to do with sustenance. When every single decision came instinctively without any afterthought. When being a human had been simpler.

Now, it was nothing but painful. The mind turning every possible page, and for what? Trying to find loopholes that weren't there, that possibly couldn't be there. Trying to find that little clue in order to solve a mystery all men must face, in due time. How to live. No, how to find the answer to how to continue  _living_.

It wasn't the voice that brought him back, back to the reality of sitting in that waiting room with its hard sofas and white walls, with its tired potted plants and low murmur acting as a wet blanket on wanted privacy. It was the touches. His hand being rubbed, his shoulder being squeezed, his jaw being kissed. Then, he could finally hear. Then, he could finally see. And smell, and taste. All because of those touches.

"How are you? Where are you?" Yuuri's voice was low, seemingly intent on keeping everything they shared in that moment just between them. Like he wanted to pretend that they were alone despite the others, sitting in that waiting room.

Victor raised his gaze, then. Ripped it away from the floor he'd been staring at but not seeing, surprised about not having heard anything at all just seconds prior. But before he turned to meet Yuuri, his eyes moved across the room. Taking in the absurdity of it all. Seeing couples in different formations, spouses, siblings maybe, possibly even friends. But… no one sitting there was as young as him, as young as  _them_. Time had been kind to the others in that waiting room, he concluded. Time had allowed the others to live a full life. Allowed the others to grow old with their loved ones. Allowed the others to make a history that would take ages, if not a lifetime, to retell. Allowed the others to have all of that he never would be able to.

"Anywhere but here," he finally replied, and felt his heart act as whimsically as himself. Undecided if it should race or clench, and thusly, ended up doing both. Just like himself, caught in between reason wanting to stay composed and emotion deciding to run rampant. Making him feel exhausted.

The exhaustion wasn't born just from the day before, the night that followed and the apprehension inside that had been slowly intensifying since they left home. It wasn't that simple. And to think that the day had barely even started. Started with him feeling the way he did.

"I… I don't want to do this, Yuuri. I want to leave. Can't we just..."

He realised a battle was lost, emotion winning over reason. Body winning over mind. Nevertheless, he met Yuuri's eyes as his words died out. Saw how those dark eyes blew up as a reaction to an emotion his words had evoked probably, before they narrowed again. Before they regained that almond shape, before they broke away from the contact.

"We're going to. After. You know?" Yuuri's voice was nothing but a whisper now, but his hand felt more assertive than his words to Victor when it laced its fingers together with his.

That hand couldn't possibly begin to quell what had started to stir. How much Victor wanted it to be different, it did the opposite. Effectively poking holes, tearing down the minuscule defense that he still could muster.

"What if, huh? What if…" Victor felt his throat narrow, ache, as he tried to swallow. He wanted to keep it all inside. Out of respect for himself, for Yuuri and the others that were present, but vibrations slowly manifested themselves on the outside. He slowly released Yuuri's hand and fisted his own as they rested on his thighs, a pointless act of trying to regain self control. "What if there's no after? What then? What are we going to do?"

"Victor…"

Victor could hear the soundless imploration, the wordless begging. The unspoken 'please, don't'.

"There will always be an after," Yuuri said ever so simply, leaning his head against Victor's shoulder with a shivering sigh, a leg bobbing up and down as a act of badly contained anxiousness.

Seeing Yuuri nervous did something with Victor. Yuuri had been so sure before, smothering his doubts with soothing words and calm explanations. Acting like a voice of reason, offering hope and reassurance in between indescribable lows. Now, seeing him, feeling him exude something far from hope, far from reassurance, made Victor feel it again. That sticky darkness that wanted to drag him under, the one that had gained access to him not long ago, by patiently waiting like a beast on the prowl.

As the darkness started to seep in, Victor started to ramble. Not knowing what to say other than to make excuses. For he was starting to fail him and of that, he was certain. By losing control, by having Yuuri sit next to him in that waiting room, for making him his. For being the reason behind a tumultuous year, a torturous year.

"I never wanted any of this. I never wanted it to en-end like this. I never wanted you to hurt this much. I wanted it to be you and… Forgive me, Yuuri, love, honey, I shouldn't haㅡ"

"I love you. Before, now, after. Especially after," Yuuri whispered with something thick influencing his voice. Making him sound anything but calm, certain, convincing.

Victor wanted to look at Yuuri, needed to see if he really was as small as he sounded but decided against it. It wouldn't do them any good. It wouldn't do  _him_  any good, not now. If he was to see Yuuri fragile, in need of support, then… he would shatter. He knew that he couldn't help him, not now, because he needed that himself. To be carried, coddled, consoled. But the voice inside wouldn't let him voice his needs.

Instead, he focused on his hands. Felt his nails dig into his palms. Saw his knuckles whiten. Saw how the veins on the back of his hands ticked, ticked, ticked as his pulse started to pick up. Threatening to burst and seep and leak and overflow andㅡ

_What if I can't help you anymore? What if I have nothing more to give? What if this is it?!_

"There's a chance you're fine."

Feeling Yuuri's breath, warm against his neck, made Victor seek out Yuuri's hand. Even though it stilled something small inside him by feeling their fingers tangled together, Yuuri's palm against his own, he couldn't meet his eyes. He had decided against it before, but he realised that he didn't dare.

"You're fine," Victor heard Yuuri repeat when he hid Victor's hand in both of his. "Oh, I-I feel your pulse!"

"I…" Victor swallowed, tried to. Feeling an ever growing mass in his throat. "I'm going crazy, it feels like, I don't… I'm, I'm fucking terrified!"

He wasn't given a response with words, but the hands that covered his grew tighter, more rigid. They stayed that way when he started to quake. They stayed that way when footsteps sounded outside the waiting room. They stayed that way when a figure appeared in the doorway.

But when Victor's name was called, the hands momentarily loosened. Only to tear into him during the heartbeat that followed. Begging him to stay strong, just for a little while longer.

 

**~**~**

 

Strangely, it felt nothing like before. Not at first.

After following the doctor down the short hallway, too short to even understand that something had started with that walk, there were handshakes, though reserved. Smiles, though directed one-way. A calm in the meeting, though tension was palpable.

A game, Victor thought to himself, and an unfair one at that with just one of the three standing outside the office knowing the final score.

"Let me just open the door," Dr. Popyrin said, rummaging around in his seemingly bottomless pocket after his keys.

It was strange, hearing him speak English. He sounded harsher, not as empathic with the thick accent, Victor concluded. Also, it was uncomfortable having the doctor intrude on them in that way, using his and Yuuri's shared was like the situation, with them all speaking English, slowly made Victor realise that his love and the one with the answers to his life met anew, with consequences he could only fantasise about.

But, it was a necessary evil for them all to meet. For them to understand each other. That little spark inside that could be reason, told him this. Yuuri was with him finally, at last, and excluding him through language would be cruel. So, he tried to settle in the fact that the shared language was good. Necessary. Even though his mind scrambled.

Again, his pulse started to race as his mind picked up on things, small things. Maybe even imaginary. Did the harshness in the doctor's voice really originate from the accent and nothing else? Could it be that the doctor indeed was hiding something?

"There, please. Go ahead." Popyrin opened the door and stepped to the side, allowing them to enter the office first.

So they did. Yuuri first, silent and with a hard-set expression. He ended up standing next to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Waiting, trying hard to look unaffected. Victor saw Yuuri, his posture, and hesitated to put his foot over the threshold.

"Victor?"

Yuuri's voice. Strange, how Yuuri calling his name made it sound like anything but. It sounded more like a 'come here', a 'don't run', and a 'please', making Victor feel like he was stuck. Stuck on the other side of that door, that threshold, on another plane. Not being able to cross the border out of fear of what was to come.

When he heard Yuuri move, somewhere in front, somewhere inside that room, he took the leap and stepped inside. Thinking that it would make it easier, hoping that Yuuri wasn't planning on pleading or pulling him inside through looks, words, touches.

"Have a seat," he heard from behind, the words accompanied by a click of the door and heels against the floor as the doctor walked towards the desk.

Victor could only nod as he sat down. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yuuri do the same.

"You look good, Victor. I'm glad." Popyrin nodded, pulling out his own chair before he sat down. "It's nice to properly meet you too, Yuuri. Not as lost this time, yes?"

"N-no, not this time," Yuuri replied.

"So," the doctor said as he exhaled, "Victor. Seems like you've been taking care of yourself, you look well. Physical activity, eating properly…"

"Yes," Victor hesitated. He wanted to scream, something along the lines of 'get it fucking over with already'. "I've been working out a little, together with… yeah."

"Mhm. Overall, how would you describe your health?"

"I feel…"  _Panicked! Terrified!_ "I feel fine, I guess? Worried about… about this, though. What you're going to say. If..."

He gave Yuuri the quickest of glances when he felt Yuuri's hand around his. It was too quick, to brief for him to actually see or catch anything. In truth, he didn't want to see what was going on behind the brown eyes he knew was looking at him. It felt good having him there, but there was another feeling, an excruciating feeling, behind the fact that Yuuri was sitting next to him, holding his hand. Strange, that. It was all he had ever wanted for so long. For Yuuri to be there with and for him and now… His eyes ended up watching Yuuri's thumb stroking the back of his hand instead.

"I understand. Then, if you don't mind, Victor, shall we talk a about your cancer?"

Hearing the word made Victor inhale. Made him grip Yuuri's hand tightly in return. The unfairness of it all, everything he feared boiled down to a six-letter word that had such power over him. Over them.

"So, we diagnosed you last year, in March. It's over a year now. Yuuri haven't seen your x-rays from back then, is it okay ifㅡ"

"Yeah, i-it's fine. Show him."

"Okay. Just a moment."

Popyrin started to drag and click with the mouse with a little frown. When he seemed satisfied with his dragging and clicking, he turned the computer screen around and grabbed a pen to point with.

"Here, then. This is March last year. See this, Victor? Yuuri? Here's Victor's left lung. You see the shadow here, the whiteness in the image? That's the primary tumor."

Victor heard Yuuri, either gasp or whimper, next to him. A soft sound, a sound of reality elbowing itself in and creating another understanding. He didn't look at him, though. He didn't look at the screen. Instead, he clenched his jaw and looked slightly to the side. He found a small irregularity on the wall behind it, maybe the wallpaper was coming off or something was caught underneath it, and kept his eyes firmly fixed on it. That was easier, easier than seeing it again. The reason to why he was being faced with his mortality.

"I'd say it was maybe 1.3 centimetres here. Here's the right lung. On this image, it doesn't show, but there was a secondary tumor placed right about here," Popyrin's voice continued, accompanied by a two small taps on the screen by the pen he was holding. "The reason we couldn't see it at first was because of it being small, but we caught it on the MRI."

Victor sighed, his insides quaking. He listened to the doctor explain every x-ray since then, every blood panel and the fluctuations before and after chemo. The low platelet count, the nausea, the loss of appetite and profuse nosebleeds. Month by month, eleven in total. Wondering what the words meant now, after the fact. What they would come to mean. But he didn't look. Not directly at Yuuri, nor Popyrin. He kept himself occupied with the small irregularity, feeling a strange kinship together with it somehow. They both were anomalies in a bigger picture. They were something that stood out, that couldn't ever fit seamlessly into that bigger picture ever again. Something that would be better off erased.

"And a little more than two weeks ago, you had your three-month checkup."

Then, Victor looked. Struck by the the feeling of being outside himself, looking down. Struck by the standstill. Struck by his senses being on high alert because this was it. The moment. The moment his mind had been waiting for in order to protect his body. Soon, he and Yuuri would know and then… they would have to explore if there would be an after. If there could be an after.

Popyrin seemed unaffected, despite what was at stake. His expression was neutral, his pose was somewhat relaxed. His blue eyes, slightly hidden behind heavily rimmed glasses, were intently seeking for contact, alternating between Yuuri and Victor's.

"Victor? Are you okay?"

Victor saw Popyrin lean in a little, like a blur haunting his retina. The doctor's eyes were firmly attached on his now. Not seemingly interested in Yuuri anymore. Victor tried to look beyond them, although he was looking straight into them. Those keepers of secrets.

"Victor?"

"Victor, please," he heard Yuuri sniff, the grip around his hand growing tighter.

"Uh, I… I'm… I…"

He wasn't fine, but he tried to be convincing by nodding ever so slightly. By doing so, setting things in motion even though it felt like it was unthinkable, impossible, preposterous even. Why? Why would anyone do this willingly, really? Expose oneself like this? Try to convince oneself that it was possible to endure what was coming?

"Can we continue?"

"Vi-Victor… can't we just…"

As Victor squeezed Yuuri's hand, with the same force, pressure and urgency, he breathed. One deep inhale and a exhale he never wanted to end, while meeting the other pair of blue eyes. "Tell me."

There was a pause. A moment of three people evaluating each other, before one of them cleared his throat and spoke anew.

"Okay. Let me close a few of these," Popyrin in said as he turned the screen back to face him, "and let me open the MRI images. Just a second."

Victor turned his head as he felt Yuuri's hands, on his leg, his arm. Rubbing, patting and squeezing, until they ended up holding his hand again. Yuuri's hands were sweaty but cold, and his eyes were not his anymore. Something else had taken him hostage, something that was but a heartbeat away from tipping him over. It wouldn't take much, that was painfully obvious.

"I love you," Victor mouthed, feeling strangely unattached despite the power of the words, before the both of them were interrupted by Popyrin's squeaking computer screen.

"Victor. Yuuri. This is the old x-ray from before. We looked at it already, you remember. Here's the primary tumor, right? Here's the MRI. It looks like a movie almost when you start it. Can you both see the screen? Good. Then..."

Then, Popyrin started the sequence and suddenly, it felt exactly like before.

 

**~**~**

 

Victor didn't catch what happened first. If his mind went blank, if his body went numb. If Yuuri let his hand go with a sound he'd never heard a human being produce before. If everything he'd been hoping for just dematerialised and vanished.

For some reason, the world didn't slow down. It came to a complete stop, and thusly, suspending everything in time. His senses seemed to do the same, ending up suspended and not functioning. Dulling, paralysing, muting and distancing both mind and body as a result, but… Victor could see, though. The one sense not failing him. Ironic, at a time like this.

Victor could see the images go back and forth. Black, white and gray masses on the screen, waxing and waning. He couldn't understand what he was seeing, looping back and forth, but he understood the consequences of it. Especially when that pen appeared in the hand of the doctor, circling an area again and again and again.

It felt like an eternity seeing those images, that pen, the only inputs breaking through the paralysis of the senses. It felt like an eternity, but still, not long enough. Maybe it all happened in seconds, maybe it was close to a minute, maybe even longer, but eventually the world came back to him. Crashing into him, like a meteor breaking through his atmosphere. It happened gradually, the way his mind and body got tired of protecting one another, slowly allowing his consciousness full disclosure.

When he realised that the moment was gone, that blessed instant of immobility and distance for he could actually see it as such, sounds were breaking through. It was the last sense to come back, for he had probably felt, smelt and tasted his new reality although he wasn't perceptive enough to realise it. But when the sounds broke through, Victor understood. He understood completely.

To his right, he heard Yuuri's breaths. Irregular and quick, amplified by the hands covering his mouth even though it was supposed to be the opposite. He knew that sound well, too well. He knew exactly what it meant. They, he and Yuuri, had entered the after.

"...do you understand, Victor?"

Victor blinked away the blur and shortly after, he felt streaks of cool wetness on his cheeks. Drops taking a leap off his chin. What was there to understand, besides the fact? What had preceded the doctor's question?

He felt bewildered as he met Popyrin's eyes. Not sure what he should focus on. Something inside told him to focus on himself, tap into what had begun to trickle through the cracks of his veneer. Something more instinctive told him to focus on the sound to his right, focus on Yuuri. But reason convinced him to focus on the question.

"Wh-Wh…"

Popyrin sighed, a sigh of compassion if there was any way to label it, before he spoke. "The blood panel confirmed what the MRI found, do you understand?"

"No, I-I…"

"Back pains? Have you been in pain?"

"Yes but, but that was from working out... no, fr-from having sexㅡ"

"It doesn't matter," Popyrin interjected, softly. Effectively taking the responsibility of preventing words not necessary from being shared. "Around the scapula, maybe? Right side?"

"What… what has that got to do with blood tests, I can't…"

"I'm sorry to say that we found a metastasis in your liver. Let me bring up the MRI of your abdomen andㅡ"

In that split second, there was a flicker. A brief flash of conflicting extremes. Of not giving a single  _fuck_ and wanting to  _know._

" _How long,"_ Victor asked in Russian. Surprised when he heard how leveled he sounded. Afraid when he felt the fire inside.

"I'd rather not specㅡ"

" _How long? How long do I have left?!"_  Victor paused, but only to catch his breath. " _How long before I die and leave him?!"_

As their eyes met, two blue pairs, there was an understanding. Both of them realised that it was time. One of them desperately in need of peace of mind, the other not hesitant to provide it anymore.

" _Without treatment, three months. Maybe."_

" _With, then?"_

" _Possibly, a little longer. It's… it's impossible to say."_

Victor turned to Yuuri. He felt the need to hurry, to say something before the need to purge would render him unable to. So, he put a hand on Yuuri's knee and the other around his shoulders. Demanding a look, a glance, the briefest of contacts. When he got it, a look that almost made him flinch where he sat because he didn't recognise the person next to him, he spoke the truth.

"Yuuri, love. I'm going to need you now. Please, be there for me. Stay with me."  _Three more words. 'Please, forgive me'? 'I love you'? Hurry!_ "Th-this is it."

Then, they joined each other in an ultimate act of love. Not by looking at each other but rather, look in the same direction. And together, they cried.


	51. Year Two: Spring, part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who have read _With what we have left_  during this rather long hiatus. This is a heavy story, not only to read but also to write. I needed some time away, but I hope I can continue writing without having a three month pause this time around :)
> 
> I beg for your forgiveness in advance, for a story like this demands a certain headspace. I'm not entirely sure if I'm back, smack in the middle of it, or if I'm treading along its egdes. It's what being rusty is all about, I guess, but I'll find myself soon enough. In the meantime, please be patient with me.
> 
> Yuuri is listening to a song in this chapter. If you feel the need to dive into his and Victor's headspace, the song is ["You belong here"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvG6vICXudc) by Anberlin, © BMG Rights Management US, LLC.
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

One would have wished that one of them could have reached out to the other after that, to make the after more bearable. But, despite looking in the same direction, two people can get lost. Lost to themselves, to what's playing out skin deep or further in. Not only that, two people can just well become as lost to each other, and the promises made.

To the outside looking in, they seemed settled down, emotionally regulated. It was a deception, really, for the silence that followed them after that veiled what was playing out inside them. It gave others a false sense of them coping, a false sense of them being prepared.

In truth, it happened more often, that silence. That debilitating silence in where nothing suddenly seemed to fit. Where talks about the after and plans beyond suddenly lost their meaning. When all of the things dreamt of when low and shared between when high became devoured, forgotten by that ever expanding silence that covered up so much. Too much.

In that silence, Victor couldn't remember what had been said. He tried to, sitting in the backseat of a taxi he never remembered flagging down or got into, but just as lost as the words were to him, was everything else. No matter what his eyes decided to rest on, no matter what sounds he heard, no matter what sensations he felt, there was nothing. He was empty.

It was as if he wasn't there. Like he'd been devoured too, because of what was taking over. Not only outside himself but on the inside too, of what he'd been so painfully reminded. It didn't matter that he was sitting in that taxi, automatically handing over Rubles for the fare, opening the door and standing on his own two feet. It didn't matter, because the feeling wouldn't subside. The feeling of being in a dream.

The thought of that, strangely enough, gave comfort. Like there was a way to get back into his own body, feel all that flesh and blood, feel connected to everything that mattered. Feel alive. He just had to find out how to wake himself, how to make the dream, no, nightmare of that morning disappear. For nightmares, after all, weren't real. Nor were dreams.

He felt stumbly, like a drunkard haunting the steps up to the bottom floor. Like the world had become dull. Slow. The sensation kept on reminding him of its presence as he pressed the button to call the lift, wondering how hard he had to press it before it lit up. Nor did it stop doing just that, reminding him, as he stood and waited for the lift, when he eventually got in. The floor counter seemed to move inexplicably slow too, like the changing digits suffered the same feeling of thick dullness. Like they too fought for their survival, desperately holding on until they finally gave in with a cry as the lift callously traveled upwards.

A short walk, keys in the lock, a door opening with a unfathomable latency. He thought he heard a noise behind him, a noise that eventually passed him by and grew fainter with every thud. But he remained, immovable, with his coat and shoes on. Wondering about that sound that had managed to break through and find him, wondering if that sound could be the key to waking up. To end that nightmare that felt so uncanningly real but still so disassociative.

But just as quickly as that thought came, it passed away. Leaving him behind in the process, making him feel just as wayward and dull as before.

For some reason, muscle memory stepped in. Movements done time and time again, attributed to specific settings. There was a comfort in that too, knowing that something inside him could make him move, take action, possibly make him wake up. That this something made him unbutton his coat, made him take off his shoes and eventually, took him somewhere else.

He knew he was in the kitchen. He knew that he had walked those steps from the hallway, past the kitchen island, towards the sink. He knew that he'd done it by his own accord but still, the immediate memory was lost to him. How it was actually done. Lost were the sensation of cool marble against his fingertips, the feeling of the rough wood of the countertop against his palms, the sting of that sharp and slightly uneven edge where the wood met the steel sink.

But it all became accessible to him. All it took was something to ground him, to make his mind and body find the connection where they could finally meet and speak openly. Candidly. And, all it took was the sensation of his fingers getting licked, of his hand coaxed into touching fur, of his calves feeling the tapping of a wagging tail.

It brought him back, it grounded him and it ruined him. It ruined him, because it became apparent that what he was chasing was nowhere to be found. The nightmare was in fact the reality, not something one could childishly wake up from if wishing hard enough. This was real. This was the after.

Realising that, feeling his mind and body come to the same conclusion, Victor sunk down to his knees. Spreading his legs apart, he pulled Makkachin in to his chest. He pulled him in, and buried his face in the fur, twisted his fingers into the curls. Felt the warm and wet panting breaths against the side of his neck. Something about the interaction felt familiar, but not quite.

It wasn't until that hurting lump in his throat needed to be purged, until the tears started to travel from his cheeks to the tousled strands on Makkachin's back, that Victor remembered that they'd done this before. On numerous occasions, throughout the years. But it had been while.

Yes, it had been a while since he and Makkachin had been close like this, with him telling Makkachin all his secrets and Makkachin silently safekeeping them. With him relishing the understanding that he was something else, something more, in the eyes of his dog. With him desperately yearning another kind of contact still, one a dog in all honesty can't possibly provide. The only difference now was that he, in theory, wasn't alone. But it didn't matter. It still felt just like before.

So, Victor wept. Silently, out of respect or shame for the three residing within those walls, pressing his mouth into the fur when it felt impossible to contain what was welling up, gushing out, erupting from within. In that moment, he didn't think, he just reacted. Allowed the conversation that was going on within to catch up, and reacted to the harshness being disclosed and shared between body and mind by holding on to the poodle a little tighter.

When Makkachin eventually squirmed free, a wordless protest if Victor ever saw one, he let him. He leaned back against the cabinet doors, closed his eyes and exhaled with a shiver. And almost without noticing it at first, Victor began to think. Of what he needed, both to do and to have. Of what he hoped for, realistically or not. Of what he wanted to say, not just in that moment but further down the line.

Every journey starts with just a small step and Victor's started by sending a text message. Just the one, saying ' _Please come. You need to take him with you.'_

* * *

It had taken him all his possible strength to keep it together once they'd left the hospital, once they walked out amongst all that was normal, well and functional. But seeing that, how everything just kept on while Victor seemingly stopped, made it close to impossible.

That was why Yuuri said nothing, did nothing, on their way back home. That was why he, as soon as Victor had opened the door, just walked past him, with outerwear and all still on, and headed straight for the bedroom. That was why he, in a moment of feeling absolutely nothing, put earbuds in his ears and turned on Spotify on his phone. He needed to fill that void inside and sought the comfort of other people's expressions instead, for his own words weren't enough. And Victor's, Yuuri knew, would be unbearable to listen to.

So, after listening to Mahler, Tchaikowsky, Debussy, Händel and Chopin, going through their emotions and their expressions, he felt a sadness. A desperation. A longing. A sense of failure and a building panic. He couldn't decide what was better, feeling nothing or feeling something. If it was better to search out other people's emotions or opening up for his own to take him over, but he decided that he wasn't there yet to allow himself that luxury of listening to himself. Not yet.

For some reason, he opened Victor's playlist. Victor, who always had a track for everything. For every situation, every possible occasion, every high and low. Every mood and emotion, and everything in between. It made him think that, possibly, Victor knew that this would happen at some point. That they would find themselves dazed and apart, that the both of them would feel small at the same time, needing to be cradled and carried.

Scrolling through it, Yuuri realised that he maybe had thought a little too much of his husband. Victor's taste in music could be described as eclectic, diverse and vast. It was impossible to pin one specific genre on him, find one specific artist or group he prefered. Victor liked everything, could find inspiration and solace in so much. In a line here, a change of rhythm there… So Yuuri took a chance, pressed one of the tracks at the bottom of the seemingly never ending list of emotions put into words and carried by music on his screen, and breathed.

The feeling of shame took him over instantly. Of course, Victor knew. Of course, Victor wanted him to know that he did. Of course, Victor had things to say. Maybe not so much to him personally, but more to himself, Yuuri thought as the lyrics of the song filled him, took him over. When he actually started to listen.

Yes, this was a song made for comforting the giver more than the taker. A song about making amends and asking for forgiveness, about wanting more and desperately fighting unbearable changes. It could be a coincidence, sure, but with Victor, nothing ever was. This song meant something to Victor, inevitably so. Perhaps, even more so now. After the fact that he―

Yuuri rolled over to his side and put his head underneath the pillow. Maybe, it was to escape or maybe, it was to focus. Regardless the reason, the words feeding into his ears, filling him up, were unbearable to hear. They were just as pleading, just as demanding, sounding just as hopeless and disheartened when trying to carry a weight too great on their own. All the while trying to make sure that there wasn't a possibility of their intended recipient leaving.

_Just like Victor._

He stifled a whimper. Yes, it was just like Victor. The words were his, told with the voice of someone else. Like it would eventually become. Everything else about Victor would be told through the voices of others, Victor would become silent, Victor would cease to be.

_Victor is going to die._

_You belong here_

_You were meant for me_

_You belong here_

_You belong here with m―_

He yanked the earbuds out of his ears and rolled up into something compact, something untouchable and impenetrable. The tension of the motion was all Yuuri focused on. The way his back arched, the way he pulled his knees up closer to his chest, the way he dug in his forehead against them, the way his fingers kept pushing into the skin of his shins.

The pain of it all was important, Yuuri felt. It kept him together. But the way his muscles started to vibrate and ask him to stop holding on and just let go, made his pulse pick up. He knew where it was headed, even though he tried to fight it with an unparallelled stamina. If the tension disappeared, if he would relax and let the outside in, he knew he would too. He would get lost in something he was afraid of. Of something so deep, too deep, that breaking the surface would seem impossible to do.

So, he remained curled up like that. Silently wishing for everything inside to keep itself contained within. Silently wishing for it to go away. Silently wishing for Victor to―

Even though the thought had become interrupted by the low wail that followed the shivering exhale, it was thought through. Finished all the same. Engraved in him. And hence, he promised himself that he would never think, never remember, never revisit that thought again. For it was too hurtful, too unbearable, too cruel.

It was all that, that now banished thought.

It was all that, because it was true.

* * *

The knock on the door was so light, so inaudible that not even Makkachin reacted. But Victor heard it.

Victor heard it because he had been sitting by the front door, with his back against it and staring out into space. For how long, he couldn't say. This Thursday had made something with how he perceived time, or maybe how time actually passed. He wasn't sure which.

Another knock, slightly louder this time, made Makkachin trot up to join his side with a wagging tail. Victor couldn't help but feel guilty, seeing Makkachin's reaction. Making him wonder if his dog felt the same as him, making him wonder if his dog desperately needed the new energy on the other side of the door too.

So, Victor got to his feet and with a heavy heart, he unlocked the door. Thinking, just in passing, how many times he would have to do this. Exactly this, by voicing the words he'd been trying to form inside of himself out loud.

Victor opened the door, created just a slit big enough to make his visitor understand that it was okay to enter, and turned away. He knew that the door had to be closed before he could meet him, before he could start with the practised string of disconnected sounds he'd been deciding on using.

"Vitya, wh―"

Victor had, while initially sitting there on the kitchen floor and then, in front of the door, planned it thoroughly. He wanted Yakov to come in, ask him to take off his shoes at least. He wanted to invite Yakov to sit on the sofa, talk about some basic, unimportant shit over a cup of coffee. Maybe say that the text message was a bit dramatic, that it wasn't as bad as it had seemed. Ask about the Russian team and their progresses. Ask about Worlds. And then, sipping the hot brew together, like men with not just a history together but so much more, he would tell him. Tell him what had transpired that day, matter of factly, and… that would have been it.

But, to Victor's regret, he couldn't. Hearing Yakov's voice made him aware of that, made him aware of his need, the raging panic inside that told him that he had to seek out support, that he had to be touched before he would shatter. Before he would spill over, yet again. So, he made the older man stagger, almost made him back up into the outside hallway, by his forceful embrace.

When Victor felt arms around his back, it felt different somehow. Like his mind and body had orchestrated it together, like they had decided that it was time. Like their conversation was finally over, and they gave him the chance to take back some of the responsibility over himself. And, Victor took it, the chance that was given him.

Victor didn't hear the click of the door, the steps made to get back into the flat. Nor did he hear the rustle of clothes, the tapping of claws against the wooden floor. He just heard his own voice, his own distraught voice, discharged straight into the silence. And it grew louder, supported by the embrace he was in. Grew into an animalistic sound as his fingers became claws and dug into Yakov's back.

So, Victor poured himself onto him, emptied himself against the shoulder of his coach, who never flinched. Who never said anything, who never took away his right to mourn the final hope that died earlier that day. Who just stood there, and accepted the pain that was transferred over onto him. Who just stood there, with his arms firmly keeping together the being that crumbled.

And amazingly enough to Victor, Yakov who usually had a lot to say, remained silent. He remained silent and waited. For what, Victor couldn't say but when Yakov finally spoke, it was so right and so perfectly timed, just after a deep and shuddering exhale. Maybe, Yakov just knew those things, dealing with glass-hearted skaters for over three decades. Maybe, Yakov just knew him. How he worked.

"So, it's bad news," Yakov said. Just matter of factingly like, just like Victor had planned to tell him.

Victor just nodded, forehead tight against Yakov's shoulder, wondering if breaking away would ever be an option. Feeling the need of that arm around his back, the other on the back of his head for a little while longer.

"Does Yuuri know?"

The whimper just escaped him, making him realise that he would have to have a similar conversation with Yuuri. After all, Yuuri knew. He knew that is was back but not the fine print, the excruciating details that their time together now had a number. That their life together had started an official countdown to when it would cease to be.

"Y-yes," he managed to reply, "b-but not… not that I'll…"

He felt Yakov's hands on his shoulders, pushing him away even though he wanted to stay where he was, tucked in against Yakov's chest. Wanting to feel small, just for a little while longer, just like when he was young and had shed tears over more mundane things. How long ago it seemed.

Seconds passed before Victor could look at his coach, his long time father figure, but when he did, he was met by a serious face. A face almost bereft of emotion.

"Vitya," Yakov said, his voice low, "did they…"

Victor felt that lump in his throat returning, that feeling in his chest like he was about to implode taking him hostage. So he looked away. Blinked. Blinked, blinked and blinked to keep it inside, now that he was forced to stand on his own yet again.

"How long?" Yakov asked, one hand resting against the side of Victor's neck instead, eyes firmly looking into his. "How long, Victor?"

As the liquid emotions started their travels down Victor's cheeks anew, he just blurted it out. Maybe, it was because of fear, of knowing that he would become impaired once the cycle started again. Maybe, it was because of him finally letting go of the idea that he wanted it, no, everything to be different. Maybe, it was because of the realisation that he needed to say it, and just saying it, blurting it out like that was the simplest way. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Three months. Maybe more."

And again, there was that silence. That silence that had become a synonym, maybe even a symptom, of his illness. That silence that just said so much more than words ever could. In that silence, actions spoke louder than words and the reaction that played out before him wasn't the one Victor had wanted to see.

He wanted Yakov to stay unaffected, gruff. He wanted that boulder of a man, the one who constantly reprimanded you even after winning all there was to win during a season, to stay in character. He didn't want this Yakov, the one whose hands fell down against his sides. The one without anything to say. The one with a trembling lip, the one that suddenly couldn't keep eye contact.

The one that started to cry, soundlessly.

Victor found himself at a loss. How to comfort someone who he'd never seen fragile, small, needing strength? Someone he didn't know had such a side to him? If that really was what he was supposed to do? Regardless, he reached out and touched Yakov's shoulder, adding just a little pressure when he, more than anything else, wanted to find himself against his shoulder again.

He was surprised when Yakov's hand patted his, not knowing if it was to comfort him or if it was an act to comfort himself. But it felt healing, somehow, to meet in that. To meet in the mutual sorrow brought on by the understanding that bonds were about to be broken and forever redefined. That they would lose what they once had and that he would be nothing but a memory, if that, in the mind of his coach.

"Yuuri!" Yakov's voice suddenly boomed in English, sounding more stern than Victor had ever heard it to be before. "I've seen you standing there for a while now! Come here, boy!"

Victor heard him before he sensed him being close. Small sniffs, footsteps hurrying closer. Always the pleaser, always so abiding to what elders had to say and decide. Always so Japanese. And just like that, Victor felt Yuuri's arm across his back and Yakov's joining and adding pressure shortly thereafter.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen well," Yakov whispered when their heads were close, tightly pressed together. "Don't see tears as something weak. They are just another way of voicing all of the things inside that you still can't put into words. Always… remember this."

And somewhere inside, a small voice momentarily drowned out what was collectively expressed out in the open, shared between the three of them. Although it was a small voice, it made Victor remember something important.

This was exactly why he loved his coach.

* * *

When Yuuri heard Victor's cries, he froze. It was like he became suspended into a state of unbelievable horror, hearing that from the next room over.

Instinctively, he wanted to block it out. Try his hardest not to hear those sounds, those unimaginable sounds coming from his husband. Yuuri knew that he wasn't ready to meet Victor in that immense sorrow, the shock of the morning's reveal still creating irreparable voids within. But once he heard a change in volume, when the cries sounded deeper and more intense, more primal in a way, his heart shattered.

It shattered due to hearing the intensity of Victor's hurt, the absolute despair of a person losing the last bastion of composure to the demons within. But also, and that realisation made Yuuri's pulse race with an unparallelled speed and made him sick to his stomach of guilt, it shattered due to his selfishness. Of his need to protect himself from the pain he had been trying to ward himself from for the longest time. After all, Victor had that right too, didn't he? To mourn what he was losing.

With his heart beating painfully hard and fast, telling him to go, go, go with every strike, he scrambled out of bed. Stepped over his shoes and jacket that were strewn across the floor before he reached the bedroom door, before he opened the door ever so slightly.

The initial shock when he heard another voice made him distraught. Jealous. Angry. Made him close to retreating into the solace of the bedroom and really block Victor out because, really,  _how could he_? How could he seek the comfort of someone else, voice his pain like that, so candidly? How could he, knowing that the one he'd chosen to be his, who should be the one he chose to turn to, was within earshot of all of this?

_But I don't want him to! I don't want him to tell me, I don't want him to tell someone else! I just don't want him to do any of it, it means that it's still, that he's―_

Yuuri calmed himself then, for there was something about that second voice that felt familiar. The intonation, the overall melody were something he'd heard before although he didn't properly hear or understand what it was saying. In a sudden influx of curiosity, he took a small, soundless step out of the bedroom and looked down the hall.

It was Yakov. Yakov's voice, Yakov holding Victor, consoling Victor. Yakov pushing Victor away by holding on to his shoulders. Yakov… crying? Seeing that, understanding what he was witnessing, Yuuri immediately wanted to have it undone.

There was something about Victor, Victor's illness, that had an unbelievable effect on people. Yuuri hated that. Feared that. Seeing people he'd always considered to be unbending, firm and colourful become reduced to shadows of their former selves when coming in contact with it wasn't humbling at all. Seeing them being reduced to nothing wasn't what he wanted. Not for them, not for himself and not for Victor. Especially not Victor. Because, Victor was walking the same path as the people he met, the people he told. He had one foot on either side, both being the observer and the catalyst. Also, if seeing Yakov this different made him feel this way, what could it possibly do to Victor?

_Victor. What did you tell him? Are you sharing with Yakov the things we still can't?_

Yuuri flinched when he heard his name being called, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. And maybe, he shouldn't have gone out of the bedroom. Maybe he shouldn't have insisted on being a part of that moment Victor shared with Yakov. And maybe, maybe, maybe, he shouldn't have invaded them, betrayed them by silently watching something that in truth was something created just for them, by them. Something that should have been theirs and theirs alone.

But he did what he was told, his body moving almost automatically down the hall. During those steps, though, Yuuri felt thankful for Yakov commanding him, for Yakov taking the lead. For Yakov starting something that they had tried too many times and yet, still had to finish.

Hearing Yakov's almost poetic words of consolation made something boom inside Yuuri, like there was something that fell into place with a otherworldly noise. He knew that he had to find those words and as far as he knew, they had time, still.

 

**~**~**

 

Yakov left shortly thereafter, taking Makkachin with him. Asking nothing about specifics such as duration and reason. And just like that, they found themselves standing next to each other by the front door. Alone in a different kind of silence, a different kind of void.

It was Victor who took the initiative and left that bubble with a sigh, heading for the kitchen. Yuuri was quick to follow, although he kept a little distance, wondering to himself where to go from there. What to say, what to do, what to think, what to feel. What could possibly be okay,right in this circumstance.

He watched Victor's back in silence, being nothing but a few paces away. Watched as Victor opened the cupboard and took out a glass. Watched as Victor turned on the faucet and felt the water with his finger. Watched as Victor filled up the glass, drank it, and filled it up anew before the hiss of the water abruptly stopped.

"Want some?" Yuuri heard Victor ask, not even over his shoulder, concluding his question with a little push of the glass across the countertop.

Yuuri made a small appreciative noise and joined Victor, picking up the glass whilst turning around so that his back rested against the surface. Feeling Victor's warmth against his side.

He found himself lost, lost in the impression of Victor's lips still on the glass. Lost in the ridges, the patterns, the small bead of saliva on the rim. Lost in wondering if there was a way to preserve that. Lost in thinking that he forgot for a second how it felt to have that impression invisibly left on himself.

Yuuri took a sip of water, and went back to watching the glass again. How their shared impressions became something new, something that made it impossible to see which one belonged to Victor or himself. How his impression distorted Victor's somehow, made it smudged and blurry. Instantly regretting his choice of putting his lips on the exact same spot as Victor.

"Nice of Yakov to take Makka," Yuuri said solemnly, trying to delay his thoughts.

"Yeah," Victor responded. "He's… he's a good man."

"Mm."

Yes, this was indeed a different kind of silence, a different kind of void. This was a silence that wanted to be broken, a void that wanted to be filled and could be sated. But it was hard, knowing what was acceptable to say and do, now that they felt more aware of where they were. More aware of each other.

"Yuuri, I―"

"Will you―"

They glanced at each other then, surprised about interrupting each other, before looking away just as quick.

"You first," Yuuri said, putting the glass on the surface behind him.

Right then and there, Yuuri should have known that the pause was something foreboding. There was something about the way Victor ran his hand through his hair, a habit of old when it was longer and not marked by what Victor had been going through, that should have made him prepare. But Yuuri was too busy figuring out if his question was appropriate to ask, now that they could stand next to each other and try to reach out.

"I… it's… it's about the appointment earlier. You know?"

Yuuri instinctively swallowed and gripped the wooden surface of the countertop with both hands, brushing against Victor's arm accidentally as he moved. Secretly wishing for that particular subject to be left alone. At least, until it felt better.

"Oh…"

"I don't know… I mean, I don't…" Victor sighed and, as far as Yuuri could tell from the corner of his eye, bent his head down as if he felt frustrated. Defeated, even.

That particular feeling of Victor being defeated wouldn't subside, not even after Yuuri felt Victor hook a finger around one of his.

"Love, there's just no good way of telling you this, so I'm―"

There was a small hiccup, one that made Victor cover his mouth and look away and made Yuuri turn around to face him with a frightened expression.

"Wh-what… what do you mean?" Yuuri wasn't sure if his heart had been racing itself to a standstill or if it just stopped dead on its own accord, but he untangled his finger and gripped Victor's hand instead, feeling weak to his knees. Feeling that void spread out not just around them but between them. That void that somehow resembled the one from earlier, the one that couldn't possibly be filled by anything being offered to it in order to appease it.

"The doctor, he… he thinks… no, he, he knows that we―"

Victor's arms were suddenly around him. They were around him, but it felt nothing like before. Not like before when everything Victor did was to carry him, console him, pull him through. No, this was a different kind of embrace, Yuuri realised. One he remembered from before, around Christmas, when Victor had been needing that support himself and had broken down, sitting on the toilet in the bathroom. When Victor had been tearing into him, needing him, coming to a realisation of his own.

Not knowing what else to do, Yuuri reciprocated the embrace with a sense of vertigo, a sense of losing control over his muscles, a sense of shutting down. Yes, this was exactly like that time around Christmas, when he sank down on Victor's lap, when they shared not just despair but tears as well. Tears that in retrospect indeed had been a substitute for words unfound, untried and unspoken.

How clever Yakov was.

With his arms tightening around Victor's back, concentrating on nothing but the feeling of having him close and against himself, Yuuri listened. He listened to the sniffs that turned into sobs that turned into wails, all the while feeling Victor quake against him, around him, inside him.

And when the words finally were delivered, the ones that so ruthlessly dictated their future they still had together, Yuuri didn't cry. He didn't cry, because tears weren't enough to describe all of those things he couldn't put into words.


	52. Year Two: Spring, part six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

 

When Yuuri let Victor go, a strange dynamic had evolved. He didn't know it then, not at the immediate release of his lover, but was there and it grew. Or, became apparent more like, during the moments that followed. That dynamic would prove itself to be problematic, capturing them and making them more confined to the roles it had created.

Victor, with the need of feeling Yuuri's hands on him, Yuuri's body close to his. Seeking him out time and time again to soothe what was churning inside, desperate to latch on and in theory, get a moment of fleeting solace by the sensation of touch alone.

Yuuri, with the need to be alone, to fully understand what had been said to him and what consequences those words would come to have. Feeling his pulse pick up when when catching a glance of Victor coming closer, feeling nauseated when being touched.

And so, this dance continued throughout the day when the both of them yearned for respite, a chance to rest and heal but on totally different premises.

It continued over lunch, as it was eaten in silence on opposite sides of the kitchen island, sparking a myriad of questions between them that all shared the same answer.

It continued in the early afternoon when fingers accidentally touched, making one of them wanting to seek out the flame and the other dreading being burned.

It continued over dinner, when words were hard to find and became drowned out due to their inner conversations, conversations that had become nothing but one sided and self centered, desperate and helpless.

It continued during the evening, with Yuuri ending up brushing his teeth in the kitchen while Victor stayed in the bathroom with nothing but his own reflection as company.

Devastatingly enough, it continued throughout the night when they suddenly found themselves awake, back to back in bed without any chance of being claimed by sleep and its blissful quiet. Both wondering why the rift even happened. Both wondering if it was possible to mend. Both wondering if they'd done something wrong by reacting the way they did, feeling nothing but unfair and insensitive towards the other, but also, feeling entitled to the decisions made from a personal perspective.

The how, however, was perfectly clear to them. The appointment may had been the origin, but it had been the words, Victor's words, that had created the actual beginning. The words had made them both understand that they had entered another kind of suspension, another kind of waiting. One of the inevitable kind, one that they fought with from different sides.

Being like that, so close but without any means of actually getting closer, lost although looking in the same direction, built a different kind of frustration in them. Both of them teetering, faltering, finding themselves caught between instinct and reason, wanting both to cave in and remain stoic. And of course, they ended up wondering if pride had any place in what had been created between them. Around them. Within them.

And so, nothing happened. Nothing that could have easily brought them to a mutual ground, where understandings could have been reached. Where discussions about past, present and future would have been welcomed by them both. They were indeed stuck, immovable in their shared fears although they wanted motion that could bring themselves closer to what needed to be said.

After all, not much had been said between them after the fact, after Victor's reveal, but the way they had acted since, spoke for them instead. Made the other insecure and hesitant, needing to find answers. Needing to know where other could possibly stand, where they would go from there. If there was a possibility and a meaning to adjust to living underneath the figurative sword of Damocles.

And just like that, the how and why, the when and where became a problem, a riddle to be solved.

It was Yuuri who finally did break the silence, took the first step, as they were lying in bed a few hours into the new day. He had been listening to the silence for what he thought to be close to forever, the pressing silence that had blanketed not only St. Petersburg outside, but also their own personal timespace. Their disrupted reality. It was Yuuri, for he couldn't stand the unspoken agreement between them and the insecurities that followed and how it just continued on like that. Feeling things form inside after hours of searching and finding.

He knew Victor was awake. Not only due to his breathing, but due to the fact that Victor never,  _never_ , had spent an entire night sleeping on his side. Turned away like that, without touching him. He knew that he was to blame for that. Although being truthful to himself, taking at least some of the responsibility, Yuuri felt an ambivalence. A relief of not being reminded of all the things a touch from Victor would spark, but also a distress. Born from the knowledge that they, those touches, would become scarce until they finally disappeared.

So, why? Why was Victor's touch suddenly so abhorrent? Why did it fire up a panic inside him when all it had ever done before was to fire him up instead, making him crave it even more? Making him melt into that touch?

To Yuuri, it was impossible to understand as he tried to think it through, hearing his and Victor's alternating exhales in the dark. After all, he had needed that contact from Victor, that clamouring embrace, but it had still made him tense up. Made him become disconnected. Introverted. Disgusted by having Victor near him although he knew that he wanted nothing else.

He had no answers to that, not yet. However, he had sensed a demand being created inside. One he felt to be imperative, one he desperately needed Victor to abide to. But he was some ways shy of knowing, still.

"I… kind of," he began, trying his voice while piecing together the small clues, those physical reactions that told him if he was going the right way or not. He didn't like that he spoke in the direction of the wall where their combined skating achievements were on display, out of focus to his eyes. This had to do with  _them_ , after all, he should be man enough to at least turn around. Address Victor directly. But he couldn't, and continued by saying, "...no, I need… just..."

Victor sighed then, a sigh that was overflowing with tension. Of conclusions, mirrored all too well when he said, "I'll leave you alone."

Yuuri's pulse picked up immediately after that. After hearing Victor speak, after feeling Victor shift in bed, after feeling the cold sneak its way underneath the duvet. After wondering if the actions he'd made to protect himself had taken a totally different turn.

"Wait!" Yuuri called out before lowering his voice, timed with his next heartbeat. "Don't… don't leave."

Victor became still, somewhere behind him. Probably sitting on the edge of the mattress with his feet on the floor, Yuuri thought. That made him dare to turn around, so he did, albeit slowly. Feeling slightly ashamed by the fact that his eyes found the landscape of Victor's back, instead of his face, relieving. There was a sense of security watching Victor like this, observing him like this. Having his eyes travel along what Yuuri knew were Victor's muscles, the protruding vertebrates that made up the spine, the shoulder blades that were flattened and close to invisible due to his hunching stance… it was easier, somehow, despite them being distorted and blurry. Like he was watching him from afar.

_Like before. Before he was mine._

"Why..." Victor started, inhaling before he continued in a low voice, vibrating due to emotions being held back, "are you doing this?"

Yuuri never intended for the answer to take that long. That the second would turn into several, creating a small eternity. But in truth, Yuuri didn't know what to answer. So his mind began to race.

Yes, how could he possibly say that Victor's mere touch made him reel? That the thought of having him close prepared his body to purge? That he wanted him, he really did, but the duality between wanting and not, needing and not, loving and n―

_No! I love him! I love him. I love him. I love Victor._

"I just..."

 _But why in the hell am I feeling like this?_ He  _doesn't disgust me. It's not him, he's not the one doing to me! It's something else, it's_ ―

And then, it hit Yuuri. Instead of being a divine experience, one that would create an immediate absolution, bestow him with a comfort uncompared, it became the opposite instead. Like he'd been looking into the darkest, most hidden, most banished place inside himself. His internal hell, suddenly dictating and voicing that demand.

"You being close, you touching me, I just… I just don't want you to make me miss you more!"

* * *

Even though Yuuri's words were gone, shared out loud only to disappear, they remained. Becoming a substitute to the silence they had been in, now echoing inside them.

Strange how it works with words. When words go from being a thought to being voiced, they instantly create a truth. Impossible to, at least in that split second, take back. There's a power in letters that create words that become sentences, a power that cannot be denied. How they end up feeling so absolute and definite.

That was why Victor turned around. He turned around, just enough by putting one leg back on the bed, just enough to see Yuuri with a slight twist of his head. Just enough, because he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Victor really wanted to have words of his own in that moment. Something that could be used to meet Yuuri with. To question him. To make him take them back. But as he watched Yuuri, being on his side with his eyes pinched closed and his arms wrapped around one of the pillows, Victor stopped his search. The reason was simple, Yuuri was telling the truth.

"You don't… you dont want me to touch you?" Victor found it strange, how calm his voice sounded when his entire being was caught in an emotional uproar. How he just breathed his way through it. How he just wanted Yuuri to answer his question.

Yuuri opened his eyes then, slow and hesitant and underneath dark lashes, and looked straight into his.

"No," Yuuri replied, softly at first, louder the second after. "No! No, I―"

Victor followed Yuuri with his eyes, followed his every move until he was sitting up. Every detail, like how close their knees were, how tousled Yuuri's hair was, how Yuuri couldn't keep a steady gaze, how he himself had to fight to keep his hand from reaching out, from touching something,  _anything_ on Yuuri's body, became etched on his retinas.

"No?" Victor managed to ask as Yuuri settled, feeling some of the turmoil spill over into his voice. Feeling it hard to protect the places inside that he wanted to stay guarded. He hated that. That sense of losing control, that sense of things slipping out of his hands. That sense of being pushed away, of not being loved. All because of something he'd tried to fight but found himself losing against. Something not only he but Yuuri as well, had to accept.

Because, what was there to do, really? About himself, about Yuuri, and everything in between? About death inevitable and life ever after.

_We just have to endure. Somehow._

"It's not, I mean, it's not like that," Victor heard Yuuri whisper, making him shake off those thoughts to some extent. "It's not that I… don't want you to, but I can't…"

Seeing Yuuri turn his head away, shoulders shaking of what he was trying to hide, made dread find its way inside Victor. Managed to unlock and unearth everything protected, everything hidden.

"Then… then what, Yuuri? Huh? What shall we do with what we have left? If… if not be with each other in the way we ha―"

"Wh-why are you asking me?! I don't know!"

It felt so intimate sitting so close. Watching emotions wax and wane with a force unlike anything Victor had ever seen. Seeing every change, feeling them too. At the same time, it felt wrong. Not being allowed to get closer, to relieve them both from some of the pain by seeking out the comfort of the other. But also, it felt wrong to see that hurt first hand, for it felt private, too private. Something that was better off displaying when alone.

It was as if they were caught in a tidal wave, a maelstrom of fears, where hope tried to fight its way to find something stable. Maybe, it just tried to hold on to them just a little bit longer, but found itself exhausted and weak. Victor couldn't help but think, seeing Yuuri fighting himself to get ownership of his composure, what would possibly happen when, because there was no 'if' to him, the both of them would come to the same conclusion. That there was just nothing more. Nothing more to feel joyous about, nothing more to learn about each other, nothing more to hope for.

Fearing that Yuuri had reached that insight, Victor reached out. It was a tentative motion, happening hesitantly and slow, when one of his fingers quivered against Yuuri's thigh. Victor wasn't certain if he had actually touched Yuuri or not, since he felt no warmth, no impact, no sensation of skin against skin. But right then and there, Yuuri moved.

Yuuri moved by turning his head around, by tilting it so that it seemed like he was observing, really trying to distinguish if he was indeed feeling Victor's finger against himself. But he said nothing, did nothing other than having his eyes locked on his thigh.

That made Victor take a chance. His finger actually touched Yuuri, followed by another, then another. Not before long, his palm was flush against Yuuri's thigh, his fingers adding pressure. Softly, slowly until he released his grip and did a retake with a gentle squeeze.

Hearing the sigh that passed through Yuuri's lips, made him bolder, needier.

"I want you to miss me, all that was me. At least… for a while. But not yet."

It sounded like Yuuri huffed a laugh, although the amusement was lost to Victor.

"You don't get to decide. Not that," came Yuuri's reply, almost mumbled as if he was talking to himself.

In that, the space created by Yuuri's almost inaudible voice, they stayed. Victor, with his hand on Yuuri's thigh. Yuuri, with his eyes attached to the back of Victor's hand. Breathing through it, getting to know each other again through scales tipping back and forth. Finding a mutual balance, yet again.

"Okay?" Victor finally asked, with his eyes on his own hand because he didn't dare to make contact with Yuuri's. Trying to figure out what a possible rejection would take them.

It took a while before the answer came. It was as if Yuuri was weighing his words, scales indeed tipping back and forth. Measuring carefully what the aftermath would be once he'd said what was on his mind.

"No, I'm not. You're an idiot, Victor."

When Yuuri's hand found his, gripped his, Victor held his breath. There was much to be said in that simple action, making Victor instantly ease up on the pressure. Preparing himself to back away, preparing himself to beg for forgiveness. Preparing himself for a horrible encore. Preparing himself to beg.

"I'm… I'm going to die, love. But I want to live until then. With you. For you."

"This is what I mean," Yuuri whimpered, letting go of Victor's hand to dry what was escaping him. "You say it like it's easy! I'm going to be living with the memory of you, everywhere I look and that's―"

Feeling both of Yuuri's hands on his, the one that was almost on Yuuri's thigh, made Victor stifle a wail. Although it came out as stuttering huffs, it felt better. More satisfying.

"It'll be okay," Victor hushed, as if he needed to console himself more than Yuuri. And in a way, it was. "I'm going to make sure they're happy ones. If you'll let me."

"S-sometimes, I just," Yuuri mewled, his voice thick and unrecognisable, "wish you didn't love me! Then, it would be easier! Then I… I just wouldn't care as much!"

Instinctively upon hearing those words, those distorted words through sobs and sniffs, Victor's free hand found Yuuri's face, his fingers touching Yuuri's jaw.

"I wouldn't care," Yuuri continued, "but I do! I do care because yo-you're the only one I've ever wanted to be close to and every day, every single day, I just find myself more and more in love with you and it's tearing me apart! I can't stand the thought of being with you one more day because it'll make me miss you ten times as much and I can't stand it! I want you, I need you! Victor, I lov―"

Maybe, Victor should have waited. Maybe, it would have been the right thing to do to listen to what Yuuri had to say, but in truth, it felt redundant. So he stopped him short, took those words that still were in Yuuri's mouth and swallowed them, made them a part of himself because it was needed.

In that moment, with their breaths pausing, their lips meeting, their eyes closing, Victor made a vow. Not only to Yuuri, but to himself.

"Please," he heard Yuuri whimper into his mouth, "don't make me miss you more."

"So tell me," Victor inquired, feeling Yuuri's lips tickling his own, "how do I do that?"

Yuuri made a sound then, a sound that carried a resignation in its tone. A sound Victor knew all too well. So he enclosed Yuuri in his arms, pulled him in and held him there before he kissed him anew. Once, twice, thrice. Feeling his worries from before being pushed aside, for there was only them, them needing each other just as much.

With that realisation, Victor whispered his promise for the both of them to hear.

"We'll continue to make memories, you and I. For as long as I draw breath. And… I don't care if you want to or not."

 

**~**~**

 

They became entangled after that, like they created a weave together with knots tightening with every breath, every move. They settled while being in each other's arms, finding that mutual rhythm after a while made out of steady breaths and slow strokes across each other's bodies. Consoling each other, by just being close and as one.

But they didn't sleep, even though their bodies craved it. There was something still there, something they hadn't thought about earlier during the day. Something that had been inaccessible to them when it was new.

Time had passed since then. Time spent feeling guilty, time spent bargaining, time spent feeling frustrated and unable. But, something sparked in them as they were close. Something, that felt like hope. Like it was a possibility to postpone the inevitable, just for a little while longer.

"Victor," Yuuri whispered, his hands tightening on Victor's back, "earlier today, you didn't talk about another round, did you?"

"Hm?"

"Of chemo."

Victor tried to remember, tried to bring out memories of what had been said and done. It was fuzzy still, with the only actual echo of earlier being nothing but 'it's back' and 'three months'.

"I don't rem―"

"Then… can you?"

"What do you mean?"

"If they're willing to give it to you, can you please do it?"

"Yuuri, I―"

"For me?"

Victor eased up on his grip around Yuuri's waist and leaned back. Taking in what had been asked of him. Taking in the expression of his husband. Wondering if he could make his thoughts become voiced without creating a divide, now that they've finally found somewhat of a common ground, a sought-after connection.

Victor decided to try, using softer words with the same meaning. "Love, what if it doesn't make a difference?"

Yuuri's retort was immediate. Absolute. Sharp. "What if it will?"

They got caught by each other. By eyes locking the other in place, by hands still holding on, by the severity of the question asked. By the seconds that kept creating a distance between question and answer, relentlessly so, but not one vast enough.

But Victor had to answer, for the question asked was one that could make or break everything that was them.

"You realise this is exactly the opposite of what you asked of me before?"

"Yes," Yuuri hesitated, "but I can't stand the thought of you… not being with me."

"You understand that they might," Victor swallowed, downing his discomfort in that illustrative gulp, "say that it's not possible?"

"Y-yes. I do."

"Are you okay? With… that, then?"

"I… I don't… all I do know is that I need you. For longer. Whatever the price."

Victor welcomed Yuuri back into his arms, when the space between them became erased. When they were nothing but skin against skin again. It could have been a perfect moment, one where two people felt ready to do whatever needed in the name of love, but… unbeknownst to Yuuri, Victor battled his first instinct, still.

"So, tomorrow? Can you call your doctor?" Yuuri's voice sounded muffled, spoken against the side of Victor's neck.

Victor ran his fingers through Yuuri's hair, momentarily lost in how stubborn it was, how it always fell back into place. Maybe, Yuuri was a lot like that too. Stubborn, but always ending up where he needed to. Always finding a place where he could settle.

With a sigh, he held his husband a little tighter. Just for the shortest while, before he answered. "Sure. Tomorrow."

Listening to Yuuri's sigh of contentment, Victor Nikiforov felt dirty. Like he'd tainted something that could have been a perfect ending to a torturous chapter. But, unbeknownst to Yuuri slowly falling asleep against him, all Victor could think of was how wrong he was, how unworthy he was of calling Yuuri his. For his initial thought, his very first instinct, was racing through him. Growing with every breath and heartbeat.

_I don't want to go through with it. Ever again._


	53. Year Two: Spring, part seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

When two people realise that the now is all they have left, something happens. One might argue that there's a calm that surrounds them then, that the knowledge about the now being fleeting and lasting nothing more than a second before it's history, grounds them. Others might say that there's an tension in that, the staying in the now, that makes two people on edge. For it takes a lot to be ever present, to not think about what's to come and all of that once was and just stay, right there. Just breathing, accepting, and strangely enough, living.

For Victor and Yuuri, though, it was different. A waxing and a waning in between different states of mental tenacity, sometimes reaching all the way and sometimes falling short. But they clambered on. Not really daring to clamber on to each other, not quite yet, but more to an idea of them as a concept.

A lot can happen in a few days' time, and for them it did just that, forced them to live through the now but not without dreams of what was to come and memories of what once was. For Victor made the call as promised, despite the inexplicable tearing inside, despite the voice within him that told him to stop and just come clean. He made the call, sensing more than seeing the presence of Yuuri, who in turn stayed in Victor's periphery. Listening, with bated breath to something he couldn't understand.

And so, it became decided. The fight would continue for a little while longer, but they would have to wait to know for sure.

To Victor, it sounded like a chance to get out, simply enough without having to voice his reluctancy. If the blood tests were on his side, he would be advised not to go through with anything that would compromise them further. Deceptive, yes, but no matter the outcome, it would still mean that he'd tried. Tried to meet Yuuri, tried to stay with him for a little while longer, tried to give Yuuri that final gift before there wasn't anything left to offer him.

To Yuuri, it sounded like a reprieve, a possibility of finding just a little more inside. Yuuri wasn't oblivious after all, he knew very well that there was just a matter of time when his self-discovery would come to a screeching halt. When both he and Victor would be consumed by happenings unable to delay. When it suddenly would be impossible to get more time or more chances to step forward. Impossible to add sentences to the chronicle him and Victor shared, one that he inside knew would always remain inconclusive.

So the days up until then, until they knew for sure, were spent in something that felt unusual for the both of them. They _understood_ , and with that understanding came a strange suspension. Out of respect for the other, maybe more so of oneself, they didn't address anything close to the subject. They just waited, pretended that life was on hold and acted as such. They filled their days with the normalcy of skating, drowsy moments in front of the TV, washing dishes and clothes, letting the moment of waiting act as the final crack in the ice before being forced to take a breath, before diving down, before knowing if they would be given another moment to surface.

It would be stupid to claim that it was easy for them, the wait. Despite the normalcy, the ordinary lives of a coach and student, there was a volatility following their situation. How just a simple response, either a 'go ahead' or a 'unfortunately, no' could make or break what they had honed during those few days. No matter what, they would be losers. It was just a matter of time, and they were painfully aware how they differed in thinking about how to spend it. The remainder, what they had left.

During those days of waiting, they thought about reaching out to the ones they loved, but the discussion was short and they found themselves to be on the same side. 'Later', the both of them reasoned, because although they understood, there were things still left to be completely certain of. When to say it, for once. How to do it and, curiously enough, what to say.

And not before long, unbeknownst to them, they woke up on the day of the call. The morning started out like mornings tended to do when being free from practise, when the feeling of being anything other than elite athletes somehow managed to wrap itself around them. That meant waking up on their own accord, thinking about what to do with the rest of the day and, maybe, act completely indulgent by staying inside, being nothing but skin to skin.

Mornings also meant that it was usually Victor who opened his eyes first. And as he did wake, Victor couldn't do anything else than to open his eyes and look at Yuuri, silently, for a little while. With a sigh, he brushed away strands of hair from Yuuri's still closed eyes, counting the lashes hidden underneath.

Victor couldn't help himself marvel a little, suddenly feeling insignificant before the sight of him for some reason. Yuuri had that effect on him, and it was beyond Victor how that dark-haired beauty so easily could command anything of him and how he, in return, would just blindly act. And just like that, a feeling raced across him, both inside and out. A feeling Victor had battled with for the longest time.

It was a feeling he considered to be desperation. Desperation of losing and not only time, and it just wouldn't let him go. No matter how driven he felt to do otherwise, how important it was to fix it.

Oh, that hateful word. What did 'it' mean? Victor quickly gave up on finding a meaning to what could possibly fit inside that word as he leaned in and touched Yuuri's forehead with his lips, dissatisfied but accepting that 'it' was something he couldn't quite grasp or even comprehend. But if he would allow himself to stop and really think, though, he knew that he immediately would come to the conclusion that 'it' was something that would continue well beyond him.

Maybe, that was what his life was about now. The rest of it, mind. Making sure that his actions would continue and, more importantly, continue to affect and reach others. Yes, that was probably how it was, and annoyingly enough, he couldn't keep obsessing over if he had made the right choices or not. But then again, who could possibly be the one to decide if he had made the right ones? Could he do it? Others? Yuuri?

In order to divert his thoughts, as they were dangerously dragging him somewhere he had managed to stay clear of during those days of waiting, Victor whispered softly, "Hey, want something to eat?"

"Ngh," Yuuri moaned, still half asleep, while stretching his arms above his head, "wait just… a minute…"

"Stay there," Victor mumbled with a kiss placed on Yuuri's forehead, "no rush. I'll fix something."

After hearing a sound following him out of the bedroom, a sound that might have been Yuuri asking if he wanted any help, Victor headed off to the kitchen. With one hand down the front of his bikini briefs, adjusting himself slightly, he opened the refrigerator and looked around.

" _We probably should have gone to the shop yesterday,_ " he sighed to himself in Russian, before deciding to make coffee.

After the coffee maker started with its merry little sputtering tune, Victor washed his hands before slicing up some rye bread and some paprika, adding some slices of cucumber as well.

"Yuuri," he called out, not really anticipating an answer, "we need to go to the shop today!"

As no answer came, Victor continued picking out coffee cups, two assiettes, a few slices of prosciutto and did his best to fit everything on a tray. He waited the necessary minutes for the coffee to finish, poured the brew generously into the cups, and balanced everything on the tray as he walked over to the bedroom.

Yuuri was not quite awake, but close. His eyes were still closed but his breathing wasn't as deep. When Victor put the tray on his own side of the bed, Yuuri's eyes opened. Just slightly.

"Thank you," Yuuri mumbled, rubbing his face a little against his pillow before he reached out and touched Victor's arm. "I'm tired."

"Mm, I can see that," Victor replied as he held out a cup of coffee for Yuuri to accept. "Mornings aren't your thing."

Victor watched in silence as Yuuri sat up with a yawn, his back finding its place against the headboard. After a look, one almost too brief for Victor to register since it was just Yuuri's eyes shadowing past his, Yuuri reached out for the the cup with a smile and took a small sip.

"It's good."

"Good?"

"Yeah, good."

"Good," Victor huffed in amusement, as he felt a warmth spread out inside hearing Yuuri's low chuckle as a response to their exchange.

"You're not having anything?" Yuuri asked, taking yet another sip of coffee.

Victor reclined with a sigh and put his head on Yuuri's thighs, his eyes stuck on the small elevation in the duvet made by Yuuri's feet. "In a moment," he replied, and closed his eyes.

It took a few seconds and maybe two sips of coffee, but Yuuri's fingers sought him out, touched the lobe of his ear and continued down his face and neck, went across his shoulder and back up again. After a few repetitions of that, the quiet bonding, the first real and effortless touches made since they had been hurled back into reality, it kind of slipped out of him. Maybe because it felt safe.

"What do you want to do? For the anniversary, I mean."

To Victor, it was just making conversation, but he realised that to Yuuri, his words meant something else. The way the caressing stopped, the way Yuuri's cup made a small sound when it was placed on the nightstand.

"Anniversary?"

It was apparent that Yuuri's voice tried not to mirror what his body was saying. Like the sound of it somehow could disguise the tension underneath, not realising that the slightly too high pitched tone made a terrible job of it. Who was he fooling, really?

Victor turned around a little, there on Yuuri's lap. His hand found a way underneath Yuuri's t-shirt until he could feel him, Yuuri's cool against his fingertips. Just touching his sides, feeling his ribcage expand. In that moment, Victor decided not to play along. He would disregard Yuuri's badly concealed cues. So he just continued, stringed together thoughts and hopes and made them vocal.

"Mhm," he said. "We need to make it special. Should we go somewhere before Prague? Or you think we should do it after?"

"Well…" Yuuri fidgeted, "can't we, you know… wait and see?"

"Wait? I think we have to decide soon. Worlds is coming up and we need to have it worked out before then."

"But… don't you think we should wa―"

It wasn't a loud sound, that buzz of Victor's mobile phone, but it was enough to cut Yuuri off, adding to the tension that was already there.

"Hold that thought," Victor said as he sat up, letting his touch linger against Yuuri's side for as long as it could. When he reached for the phone, placed upside down on his nightstand, and looked at the screen, he realised that another wait had come to its end. Now, it was his turn to pretend, to get that high pitched tone in his voice and hope that it wouldn't give his ambivalence away. "It's the hospital, love."

Victor heard Yuuri come closer as he stood up, one hand around himself and the other holding the phone. When he felt Yuuri's legs framing his, a hand on his thigh, he answered.

" _Hello?"_

" _Good morning, Victor. It's Mikhail Popyrin here."_

" _Morning, doctor."_

" _So, I, uh, heard from the nurse that you had questions about chemotherapy, am I right?"_

" _Mm, yes,"_ Victor responded, almost out of breath and definitely at a loss for words.

" _Well… I've taken a look at your latest panel and I'd say that it looks satisfactory. You could get chemotherapy."_

Victor's heart sank as his throat closed up, as his arm around himself tightened with his fingers digging in, deeper into his hip. " _Oh,"_ he managed to say, and that pitch in his voice felt so stupid, so fake and so redundant.

" _But before I ask you anything else,"_ Popyrin continued, " _I'd like you know that I'm not entirely comfortable giving you the same concentration as before. Your whites went really low last time and… well, what I'm trying to say, Victor, is I'm not sure if anything less potent will make a difference for you. Not at this stage."_

" _M-m… mhm?"_

" _So, I… I want you to consider if you feel like it's worth it. Knowing how it affected you last time, knowing that it might not give you more time. It might make you feel ill, feel tired and… I just want you to be informed, really."_

There was a pause between them. Intentional or not, it made the words sink in, made Victor sick to his stomach.

" _If… if you would make it less… then, what would…?"_

" _You can get pills. We could make an IV-treatment less concentrated, if you'd like. The treatment can be prolonged that way, since it probably won't affect your overall health as much. Simply put, you can undergo that treatment for longer. You should_... "

" _Go ahead,"_ Victor almost whispered, his fingers hurting his hip as he coaxed the doctor to continue.

" _Yes,"_ Popyrin answered with his voice riding on the smallest of exhales, " _I say this to all my patients, okay, Victor? I feel like you should spend the time you have left by feeling as good as possible. Make it matter for you and for the ones you love. That's all. But how you choose to do it is your decision and yours alone. We can manage pain, nausea, we can… make it as easy as possible for you. Whatever you decide."_

Victor glanced down, past the arm around his waist, down to the hand on his thigh. He would have to make a decision. Either take the bad and maybe, postpone the inevitable or just… prepare. Prepare for it all to end. But, right then and there, he didn't know what he wanted. For the first time in his life, he couldn't make a decision, educated or not. The whimsical side of him, the catalyst for most of his decisions, stood frozen in disbelief.

" _Ho-hold on,"_ he excused himself, feeling the fingers digging into his hip ease up a little. "Love? Yuuri?" He continued in English, putting that almost petrified hand of his on top of Yuuri's, cold against his thigh.

Yuuri said nothing. Nothing more than adding a little pressure, leaning into him. Putting his head against the naked skin.

"I have to decide now."

Victor heard Yuuri sigh, that kind of vibrating exhale that meant that emotions ran high inside him. Then, he felt cool lips touch the skin of his leg, followed by stuttering breaths. Then, he raised the phone back up to his ear.

Then, he decided.

 

**~**~**

 

They sat silent beside each other on the bed, locked inside themselves, stunned and in disbelief. Slowly coming to terms with what had been said and done. The coffee had gotten cold by then, the vegetables soft, and the prosciutto dry, but that was the last thing on their minds. After all, what is a breakfast when compared to something like that, something so paramount and definite?

"So," Victor said, low as if to himself, "we should talk to your family."

In the corner of his eye he could see Yuuri nod, just a slight movement before Yuuri's hand found his. The gentle squeeze made Victor turn his head and look at him, take him in.

Yuuri was looking down, down at his feet. Continuously blinking.

"I…" Yuuri began, "I don't really know… what to tell them."

Victor rubbed Yuuri's hand with his thumb in response. It was a poor attempt of, well, anything really, which made him reply with words instead. Not that he felt they were any better.

"Mm, I guess… I guess you'll just have to tell them how it is. You know?"

"Yeah. But… Victor?"

"Hm?"

"I… I kind of want to talk to them myself. For now. We can call them up later. Together I mean. Tomorrow, maybe?"

"I'd like that."

The silence spread out anew, only interrupted by the low rustle as their hands slid across the sheets when they laced their fingers together. They were thinking, about totally different things. About things they would have to go through with in order to get just a little more piece of mind. And, as it usually turned out to be between them, they understood each other. Or at least, they understood that they had to offer the other some time alone. Give the other some privacy.

"So, um…" Yuuri commenced, glancing at Victor underneath dark strands of hair.

"Yeah," Victor replied as he brought Yuuri's hands to his lips, "see you later, then."

With that, Victor stood up and got dressed. Not thinking about that it was the clothes from the day before. Dark trousers, a gray long sleeved t-shirt and, of course, Hiroko's knitted beanie. He gave himself a quick glance in the full length mirror in the corner before he turned around and looked at Yuuri.

"Love you," he breathed.

"Love you too," he heard Yuuri's belated reply as he walked out of the bedroom.

As he put his coat and shoes on, one hand on the wall to give himself some support, he could tell that Yuuri had made the call. Yuuri's Japanese voice was somehow a little deeper than his English, easier to distinguish from afar even though the words were lost due to the distance. Yuuri sounded matter of factly, not at all as affected as Victor thought he would be. Strange, that.

With a sigh, Victor opened the front door and walked towards the lift. The wait before it arrived was surprisingly short, and after he'd pressed the button for the bottom floor, after the doors closed and after the lift had started its downward travel, he hit the wall. First with his hand open, then with his fist.

"Fuck," he whispered at first, before his voice rose in sync with the sound of his fist pummeling the wall. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Fuck._ "

* * *

The call hadn't been going on for that long, but that didn't matter. After the usual pleasantries, when it was time to address the nature of the call, it felt better to actually do something than to sit still. So, when Yuuri decided to tell his mother why he had called, he stayed in constant motion. Feeling a simmering apprehension about what would happen if he would, in fact, just sit. Just listen. Just feel.

Moving around the flat, it just happened. Unfiltered and candidly, he told her about Victor, about Victor's decision, about time, about how he felt about it. He told her about the immediate plans he had himself, and no, there was no other way. He had to go through with them. And doing so, telling his mother all of that he had been trying to disregard, Yuuri wondered why that was. How movement could make him disconnected to what he was saying, how words he'd been dreading to use became more mundane.

_Why doesn't it feel the same with him?_

His mother asked questions, of course, and the constant motion made the words Yuuri heard travel into his ear… well, less, in every meaning of the word. But when the words from his mother stopped being questions and turned into sounds instead, sounds that couldn't be described with letters at all, they pierced through. Gone was the grace of distraction, of cleaning up after the breakfast that never was. Of watering the few plants on the window sill in the living room, of picking up things on the floor left by Vic―

" _I'm sorry,"_ Yuuri whimpered as he became contaminated by his mother's sobs. There was no point in moving, no point in standing when that feeling in his stomach and chest started to tear away at the rest of him. There was no point in fighting it, in trying to distance himself from it. All of it, all of that he knew he should say, but not to her. All of the things he knew he ought to do, but not to her.

As he pooled down on the sofa, he thought he heard reprimands coming from his mother, telling him that he shouldn't apologise. That _she_ was sorry.

_For what?_

They shared that, the amount of silence a moment of mutual grief can possibly offer, and suddenly, Yuuri felt small. Like he needed her hand on his head in the same way when he was young. When he'd scraped his knee, falling off his bike. When he'd felt sad for reasons he couldn't understand, when it all derived from him being inexplicably shy. When he had skated his first competition and didn't place, even though he so heatedly had wanted it. He needed it, that hand on his head, because he hoped it would make a difference since... it felt like nothing else possibly could.

" _Yuuri,"_ his mother said then, still staccato-like when her voice found both its strength and its way back to her, " _don't make Victor live an empty life. Make sure he's loved."_

" _M-mom,"_ Yuuri tried to interject, feeling that her hand was far, too far away from where he needed it to be. Too far away from him. " _I… I just_ ―"

― _don't think I dare to._

" _You will always have him, darling,"_ Hiroko interrupted. " _He'll be a part of you for as long as you'll let him. He's a part of me too. Of papa. Of Mari as well. He'll always be, you… you don't have to see him for this to be true."_

There it was. That hand from afar, giving all of that a mother possibly could give her child. The calmess, the shelter from the storm. A small insight on how to lay down pieces of the puzzle called life. And love. For Yuuri knew that his mother had always loved, both him and his sister, and he then came to understand something. Something that had been unavailable to him before. Before all of this.

" _Like… like when I went to Detroit?"_

" _Mhm,"_ Hiroko replied, sniffing a little. " _But be sure that he knows this before… before he… oh, Yuuri, I'm so sorry!"_

Yuuri pulled up his knees to his chest and breathed, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Hearing the sobs of his mother through his phone as he closed his eyes, trying to keep as much as he possibly could inside.

" _Mom?"_ Yuuri whispered, feeling the most important question he could ever think of bubble up inside him. The one question he wanted to ask Victor more than anything, but thought he would never find the courage to. Not because of the question being voiced, not at all, but because of the answer he was sure he was to receive.

" _Yes?"_

" _What… wh-what,"_ he whimpered, feeling tears pooling underneath his eyelids, " _what do I do when he's afraid? Or when… when he doesn't wa-want to anymore? What do I do when he leaves me?"_

Again, that frail and brittle silence-but-not-quite spread out, accompanied by shared sniffs and stuttering exhales. After a while, for seconds are seemingly eternal, Yuuri could hear his mother settle, prepare herself to answer his question.

But, right before she got the chance to, Yuuri's attention got caught elsewhere. The sound of a key turning inside a lock, the brief creak of a door opening, heels against the floor.

"― _know,"_ his mother's voice sounded, distant in his ear, " _I know you do."_

" _Oh, mom? Victor's home now, so I… I have to go."_

" _Yes. Yes of course. Tell him that I, we…"_

" _I will,"_ Yuuri said, now standing up. " _We'll call tomorrow. I think."_

They said their goodbyes, the pair consisting of son and mother, and after, the son stepped into one of his other roles. Or rather, he clad himself in those of many as he walked over to meet his purpose, his harbor. That other piece of him that was everything he wasn't.

Victor had put the grocery bags on the floor while he was removing his shoes and coat, and it was with a tired smile he opened his arms. Yuuri put his phone into the pocket of his sweats and sought out the embrace.

"I'm very angry with you," Victor said, not showing any signs of it at all in his voice, pulling Yuuri tighter against him.

"Mhm… I know."

"You should have told me."

"You would have said no."

Yuuri let his hands travel across Victor's back, felt the muscles underneath that thin t-shirt. Even though a voice inside him told him no, he tried to memorise what it felt like. What it felt like having Victor close against him, feel him underneath his hands.

Victor's wry laugh made Yuuri peer up and meet those blue eyes, and Yuuri couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed.

"Didn't you think they would check with me?"

"I… I actually thought it would take a little more time, but―"

"Oh, love… I've done that once, remember? Yakov didn't do anything else than take calls for two days. And the ' _goddamn paperwork, Vitya'_ ," Victor said, trying his best Yakov-imitation. Which in truth, wasn't bad at all.

"I… I'm sorry," Yuuri said, breaking the eye contact and buried his face against Victor's chest. "I just... I just didn't know what to do and I kind of…"

"Yuuri? I'm not stupid."

Yuuri huffed a small laugh then, but it was more of a disguise. A ruse to hide the explosion of sadness he felt within. Muffled, as heat teased his cheeks and tears stung his eyes, he added, "I know."

He felt Victor release the hold, the consoling and protective hold around him. Just when he was about to sigh, a reaction to voice his longing for Victor's hands to return to him, he felt them on his shoulders instead. Yuuri's eyes ended locked on their feet within the second the embrace became interrupted, though. Their feet, his two flanked by Victor's, creating a pattern on the hardwood floor. A monogram that was theirs and theirs alone.

Not until two fingers coaxed his chin upwards, did he dare to look at Victor. Under dark strands of hair first, until he met him. Looked into him.

"Vi… are you sad?"

A smile came and went across Victor's face, as quickly as the sun can break through mounds and mounds of clouds before it disappears again, making you wonder if it even was there in the first place.

"No. Like I told you, I'm very angry with you," Victor said, a tear escaping the corner of his eye. "First, when they started calling me, I wanted to drop everything I was doing. I wanted to get home and just let you… but then, I started to think and although I'm still angry wi―"

" _Very_ , you said."

"Yes, _very_. Don't interrupt me, okay?"

Yuuri felt as if time stopped when Victor's lips suddenly were on his, nibbling a kiss away. When Victor's hand was on the back on his head, urging him to surrender, to deepen it all. At the same time, it was as if he turned into something smoldering, molten almost, whilst wishing for Victor to stop. He put his hand on Victor's hip, needing the support it gave, needing the distance just a slight shove could provide. For if they were to continue like this, remain standing would be impossible.

"As I was saying,"Victor continued once he gave Yuuri's breath back to him, his hand still on the back of Yuuri's head, "despite everything, I… I wanted to say 'thank you'. Because I…"

This time, Yuuri embraced Victor. He pulled him close, pressed the air out of him in the process. He ran his fingers through the modest amount of hair, smelled him, tasted the skin of his neck, felt Victor's breath on him.

_Victor, Victor, Victor. Thank you. Thank. You._

"So, now that you're not skating anymore this season, can we talk about our anniversary?" Victor mumbled into Yuuri's hair, a soft sniff ending his sentence.

Yuuri didn't respond at first, for he was lost in thought. Busy thinking about what their decisions meant to each other. Busy thinking about is mother's words, her advice. Busy thinking about what he dared to do and didn't. Then, he decided that he wanted to, with all his heart, which made him breathe, "Not yet, but… soon."

For that was something he didn't want them to miss out on. It wasn't about chemo, plans mutual or not, skating or anniversaries, far from it. He just wanted Victor to feel loved and he, in turn, wanted to know how to make it so. Especially now.

And just like that, Yuuri wondered what his mother had said to him when Victor came through the door. Yuuri hoped that he could find the answers to those questions he posed, somewhere inside himself, for those answers were the gifts he felt that he needed to give to Victor. More than anything else.


	54. Year Two: Spring, part eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had to be divided into two, due to it's massive length. On the plus side, most of it's second and unpublished half already done so you won't have to wait (as long) for the continuation, hopefully. It's an important part of the story, which needed a little extra time and love.
> 
> Song mentioned, **"Everything"** , © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, as performed by Lifehouse.
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

 

On the first day, they didn't speak. Not with the words that needed to be said. They would come later, but not by much.

The morning had been filled with a tension, a tension Victor quickly realised probably wasn't theirs to share. No, it really was his and his alone, making him act disorganised and frayed, muted and distant. But he downplayed it, tried to do the opposite of what his mind told him but felt himself losing the battle every now and then. That was why he forgot his wallet on the kitchen island and had to ride the lift back up again, that was why he couldn't come up with an answer to questions so mundane asked by his Everything, that was why he got lost inside whilst thinking of things he couldn't voice, of things he feared.

It felt like a lifetime since he had been there last, there in the same room, in the same armchair, looking out the same enormous window with the southern parts of St. Petersburg stretching out below. In a way, a lifetime had passed since last time. A lifetime that now was drawing dying breaths, despite futile attempts to prolong it.

_Prolong it? Life, or the suffering?_

Victor huffed a little, a sound brought on by frustration and resignation as he was forced to finish the thought, or at least let it go, as they were joined by a nurse. She cleared her throat a little to make her intrusion somewhat gentler, to tell them that she was there without doing too much of an effort. She was herding an IV-stand in front of her, a bag hanging from it with its this plastic hose coiled up. Victor gave her a fleeting glance and noticed that she was, indeed, clad like she was prepared to wage war against something contagious and dangerous. It was hard not to take it personally this time either. It was even harder not to find the whole procedure incredibly… unnecessary.

Strange really, how the prospect of getting liquid poison, the kind that doesn't care whether what's inside you is good or bad and just treats everything the same, effectively ends a conversation. Even one you have with yourself. For Victor, the sight of the oncology nurse acted as the force that would topple the heavy lid to his open well, a force that would leave him gasping and blinking in the soon-smothering darkness. Making him wonder what was to come.

If the nurse acted as the force that set it all in motion, the cannula that went into Victor's arm might as well had made the exact same sound as old and unbending wood. Although, it was grating against surfaces that never could be as unbending, that never would become as old. And, if the cannula was the noise of the lid prying its way back into place, acting like a solar eclipse without an end, the small click that opened the way for the the cytostatic fluid to gain the access into Victor's body became the darkness that followed.

It was happening now, he realised that. This was the last huzzah, the final and desperate act of two lovers racing against time, hoping all the while that something would, in the end, make a difference. Or rather, it was the innate hope of  _one_ of them as much as it was the desperate act of love of the other.

Victor hissed, the sound of air pulled in between his clenched teeth, when the sting of the chemo made itself known. When it passed through the veins in the bend of his arm, like a flood of burning pain, making its expansion into him with its sole purpose to pillage and rape everything else that was him. For that was how it worked. It wasn't only the cells tainted by cancer in his lungs and liver that would react to the seemingly clear and harmless fluid, the one that trickled down on its way to conquer him. It was everything about him, everything that was him would become affected. Victor knew this, although he wanted to forget. Forgetting would have made it easier to say yes to it in the first place, for ignorance is bliss and all that.

Within the second after wincing, he felt his hand being squeezed. Not the one attached to the arm that was attached to the drip, but the other. His free hand, his ring-bearing hand, the one Yuuri had instantly claimed as his as soon as they sat down. It was a light squeeze, fingers softly tightening around his own as if to say ' _hang in there_ ', ' _I'm here_ ', ' _please_ '.

And so, they sat. Holding the hand of the other as the nurse pressed buttons on the monitor attached to the stand to set the speed and amount. When she left, they were lost in the activity of not making any other plans than to count down that hour it would take for Victor to be momentarily set free.

With a small sigh, Victor reclined in his armchair in front of the window and felt his eyelids getting heavier. He followed a gull surfing on something he guessed was a stream of hot air with his eyes, trying to keep it in his sights as it bobbed up and down on that invisible puff. But, when he felt Yuuri's lips against his hand, he decided not to fight it. The exhaustion that from an immense tension.

"Rest a bit, I'm… I'm here," came Yuuri's whisper, as if to convince him. And that, he did.

Victor peered at Yuuri a few times underneath heavy lashes during the hour that passed, and upon doing so, he felt something he couldn't quite place. Something indescribable was happening inside him when he saw Yuuri look up from their interlaced hands, when Yuuri's eyes swept across the room.

Maybe he was taking it in, Victor pondered. What it meant sitting in a too bright a room and almost get fooled by it. What it meant to look down on the world like that from above. What it meant, fucking all of it. Because, no matter how you looked at it, this was all a trick and Victor hoped Yuuri saw that too. For hope wasn't there, their invisible companion in that godforsaken room was called something else. He only wished that Yuuri could  _see_  that.

He drifted in and out of something that could barely be called sleep, for it was too light and uneasy, without dreams and restful bliss, before he felt a light squeeze around his hand at first, then around his shoulder. Making him open his eyes slowly.

"I think you're done now, Victor. The nurse is here," Yuuri said with a voice sounding almost apologetic, his eyes stuck on that thing in Vicor's arm that was providing the both of them with ideas that differed so much from each other.

The nurse's voice followed immediately thereafter, making Victor flinch due to his surprise. Although kind, there was a slight edge to that slow, female voice. " _Victor, I need to take out the needle. Would you please sit up for me?"_

Victor responded in motion as he blinked, as he let go of Yuuri's hand and sat up, offering the bend of his arm to the nurse without a word.

 _How strange that,_  Victor thought as he looked away, out the window, when the nurse prepared to remove the cannula,  _this is her job. Watching people disintegrate as she delivers words of comfort, watch them lose not only to a disease but also… lose themselves in the process. She can't afford to be soft, can she? Then, she'd lose herself._

" _Thank you,"_ he mumbled, feeling the nurse's gentle pats around the edges of his bandaid to make it stick.

" _See you tomorrow,"_ she said, her facemask shifting a little across her chin, before she gathered up the things she'd used and put them on a small metal tray. With a small nod as to bid him goodbye, she stood up and rolled away with the IV-stand in one hand, carrying the tray in the other. Leaving them to fend for themselves, like life always did.

They watched her in silence, watched her exit the room and round a corner further down the hallway, before they came together. Seeking out not only the hands and eyes of the other, but also, that small and still uncharted place inside the other. The one that was filled with questions, needs, wants and everything in between, but not really reaching in. Not all the way.

"Feeling okay, Victor?" Yuuri's hands was cupping his face, his thumbs gently tracing patterns on Victor's cheeks and nose. "Or do you need to…"

Victor wanted to snarl a 'no' whilst holding on to Yuuri's elbows, that initial reaction almost spilling over his lips the second Yuuri's voice faded but he stopped himself. Victor knew that he needed to do this for him, he needed to endure for him, he needed to show him that there wasn't a single thing he would deny him. More importantly, he wanted Yuuri to see that, to understand that because… that could make him stay close to him, love him. Until it wasn't possible anymore.

So, he bit his tongue and shook his head a little, making Yuuri's hands stop the glorious thing they were doing. So, those touches Victor had coveted to feel in that very room too many times to count, ended. With a small sigh, he braced himself with his hands against the armrests and got to his feet.

"I'm fine, love," he replied, pressing out the words to make them sound light, true and sincere. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

"Mm," came Yuuri's muted reply. Like he too felt a tension. Like he too was lost in thought.

* * *

It was impossible not to notice that Victor's mood plummeted once they left the hospital. And if it had plummeted on the way, it crashed when they reached their flat.

Seeing how it all started, with Victor becoming more introverted, more silent whilst sitting next to him in the backseat of the taxi, made something build inside Yuuri. It was an uncertainty, one he desperately tried to fight. He didn't want to become swept away, he didn't want it to take him over. But it was hard, seeing his fighter bleed and stagger. It was hard, wanting that guiding light to shine even brighter but seeing it lose its clarity with every passing second.

That uncertainty Yuuri had felt in the back of the taxi took root when they exited the lift and came through the door. When Victor became unresponsive to both questions and kisses as he dragged his feet across the hardwood floor towards the living room. When he reminded Yuuri of something wrung out and discarded whilst reclining on the sofa. When he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, breathing heavily and drifting in and out of sleep. In and out of sheer exhaustion.

That uncertainty grew rampant when Victor, suddenly awoke and with a tired sigh, staggered to his feet. Without as much as a glance thrown his way, Yuuri heard Victor excuse himself with a ' _I, I, I just have to…_ ' and retreated into the bedroom. Closing the door behind him with an almost inaudible click as he walked inside.

Sitting there, alone on the sofa and in the silence, made Yuuri think about it all. His reactions up until that exact moment in time, Victor's uncharacteristic behavior, their choices made. His mother's words. Why he couldn't make himself put his foot over that final hurdle. That it hadn't been that bad to follow Victor, sit with him, to be a part of him.

_Everything about him._

Guilt washed over Yuuri then, thinking about time spent fighting. Time he could have spent doing other things, more rational things, loving and supporting things. That guilt he felt, it wasn't due to the fact that he had been fighting, not at all, for it might actually be healthy to fight. Like Victor, he had fought to make him his.

No, the guilt came from the realisation of why and how he had been fighting and, more importantly,  _who_ he had been fighting.

 _Victor_.

And just like that, being wrapped up in his own thoughts and the fact that Victor had simply walked away, Yuuri couldn't understand what was expected of him. Should he stay put or come careering through that bedroom door? Should he invade Victor's space despite the fact that he had walked off? Should he just… endure?

Naturally, that internal conversation made him feel stupid. So utterly and ridiculously stupid. He admonished himself where he sat, in hard and unforgiving words spoken loudly inside, because he wanted to know. He needed to know what to actually do.

Not knowing if it was the right decision to make, he left Victor alone. To some extent at least, for he couldn't keep himself from peeking inside the bedroom every now and then. All because he desperately wanted to understand, or maybe find a small clue to how to make it so. But everytime he did, he was met by the same view. Victor being on his side with his back against the door, silent, seemingly relaxed. Breathing slowly and evenly. Not answering when his name was whispered.

Seeing that for the seventh time or so, that slow and steady breathing, that body stuck in immobility, made Yuuri conclude that he probably shouldn't worry, that he could relax. And when he finally relaxed, thinking that Victor probably needed the rest, he could start to focus on other things. Other things he knew he  _could_ do. So, he did a load of laundry and washed the dishes before deciding what to make for dinner.

Not before long, pots and pans were on the stove, ingredients cluttering the kitchen island. Yuuri busied himself with chopping vegetables, trying his best to make sure that he didn't drift away in thought as the knife cut through the leeks with a hiss. He watched the knife intently, the way it just slid through the thin stems and reached the cutting board underneath with a soft knock. He watched his hands, the way he moved his fingers out of the way, bit by bit. He tried to stay in the now by thinking about how to prepare a soup of some kind, adding vegetable by vegetable to the broth, seasoning it a bit, tasting it, adding bits and bobs to make it perfect. Hearty. Something Victor would want and enjoy.

He picked out another leek and put it on the cutting board, readying his knife again when he heard a sound,  _a lifesign_ , behind him. It was something as simple as Victor's quickened footsteps in the hallway but the sound of them still made him warm up inside, made a small smile take his face hostage in anticipation. Made his body ready for hands on his hips, warmth seeping into his back, breaths caressing the back of his neck. Made him forget what he had tried to fight before, for in that exact moment, he was really in it.

"Hi," Yuuri said over his shoulder, raising his voice slightly so that he could be heard over the noise from the washing machine chugging about in the bathroom, as well as the sounds from the kitchen. "Did you sleep all this time?"

He stopped chopping, and listened for the reply. Waited for that corporeal connection. But, none came. Much to his surprise.

 _I just heard him? I know I did,_  Yuuri thought to himself and put down the knife, reaching for a small towel to dry off his hands with.

"Victor?" Yuuri called, turning around to see that he was, indeed, alone in the kitchen. "Huh," he said to himself, his heart sinking a bit, as he put away the towel and steered his steps to round the corner created by the fridge and freezer. With just a few steps, he had walked into the open space that was the living room.

Although he couldn't see Victor or his legs hanging over the armrest and his feet wiggle a little back and forth like they usually did, Yuuri walked over to the sofa just to make sure. He could be curled up after all, waiting for him to bestow him with a touch or a kiss. As Yuuri peered over the backrest of the sofa, it wasn't really a surprise to see the sofa being unoccupied. But at the same time... it kind of was.

Just when he was about to call for Victor again, turning on his heels and trying to decide where to direct his voice, he noticed the bathroom door. It was closed and locked as indicated by the small red space above the keyhole, and Yuuri became instantly drawn to it. In the same way you would throw yourself at something colourful, disregarding the visual clues. The potential danger in it. So, Yuuri approached the door and listened, and heard nothing but the distinct hum of the washing machine's spin cycle that was starting from within.

"I'm making soup, hope that's okay?" Yuuri called, his voice slightly higher. He knew the washing machine was loud when it did its thing, which made him raise his voice by just a little. "Victor? Is soup okay?"

When not receiving an answer after addressing the door after a small knock, Yuuri sighed. Maybe he had made the right choice leaving Victor alone, after all. Maybe Victor was irritated and tired, maybe he needed some time alone. Maybe Victor was other things too, but that wasn't something food couldn't fix.

As Yuuri prepared to head back into the kitchen, deciding that soup would have to do whether Victor wanted it or not, he stopped in mid-turn. There was no denying the sudden flash of cold that enveloped him like a northern wind, that created bumps on his arms and almost a quake along his spine. There was no denying that his reaction was attributed to the sound he heard from within, audible over the washing machine's buzz, audible through the door. Audible despite everything that was there to conceal it. But the damage was already done, for the sound had gone through not only noise and a closed door, but through Yuuri himself where it spread out inside him. Claimed him.

Within the second, Yuuri felt his stomach imploding, his throat narrowing, his eyes burning, his whole body screaming a panicked 'no' without words. He braced himself against the wall, his hand and lower arm keeping himself upright as he tried to draw breath. He wanted to go in there, he needed to go in there but, no, no, no, not now, he  _couldn't—_

When the sound of the shower being turned on before the toilet even flushed, there suddenly was none of that. No possible way to settle, to calm himself. And in that second, Yuuri decided that he couldn't stay. He couldn't face what was in that bathroom, not if his life depended on it. With one hand over his mouth, he hurried into the bedroom and changed his clothes; putting on sweats instead of chinos, pulling off his sweater and putting on a t-shirt instead, grabbing his sneakers from his backpack on the floor.

With his heart beating violently inside his chest, he took his earbuds from his nightstand before heading off to the kitchen to fetch his mobile phone, leaving potatoes unpeeled and leeks still on the cutting board but somehow managing to turn off the stove as he hurried and fumbled.

Then, Yuuri Katsuki headed out the door. Intent on running.

* * *

On the second day, they pretended to be brave for just a little longer, for in truth, it was hard for them to ascertain what the other knew.

Victor wondered if Yuuri had heard all of that he had been trying to hide, being on his knees with his face surrounded by white porcelain. He wanted to spare Yuuri that, the sight of his body telling him what his mind already knew. Protesting loudly against his stupidity, against his better judgement, against—

Yeah, it really boiled down to that, after all. If it was love or not, if it was supposed to be tested. But Victor didn't dare to test it, the foundation of it or the definition of the word.  _His_  definition of the word. He just needed to endure it for a little while longer, that was what he told himself, with his body close to Yuuri's during the night. After all, what are four days out of a month, if not just a blink of an eye?

Yuuri, on the other hand, wondered if Victor had believed his ruse. If his panicked exit to just run, run,  _run_ in order to leave that inferno behind really had been covered up by the few things he had brought back from the shop. If his inner voice somehow spoke instead of him, making him voice that guilty conscience.

Oh, it couldn't be overlooked, the way that realisation made him hurt. That his wishes had made that fighter of his bleed and stagger. That his wishes had brought said fighter to his knees. Yuuri didn't know how to carry that, what to do with that understanding at all. So he tried harder in succeeding with the things he knew, with what he knew could bring Victor solace.

So, on that second day, Yuuri stayed closer to Victor in that room with the armchair and the large window, the one with the IV-stand and the bag connected to Victor's arm. Not only did Yuuri hold Victor's hand in his own, for that was too cheap, too small an act to show his appreciation of what he was getting in return. Instead, he held Victor's heart as hostage by saying things he knew he could.

"Victor, can I ask you something?" Yuuri whispered, squeezing Victor's hand a little to gain his attention. Victor had closed his eyes a few minutes before, but Yuuri could tell that he wasn't asleep. He was just inside himself, for some reason, blocking out things that were on the outside of him. Yuuri couldn't blame him, he wanted to do the same.

"Sure, love," Victor replied after a deep inhale, his eyes slowly seeking out Yuuri's once they opened.

Yuuri studied Victor then, wondered what went through that mind of his. Wondered if he felt just as ashamed. But those blue eyes disclosed nothing. They just pierced their way through him like they always did, made his insides flutter like they were butterflies.

Yuuri's hand slid off Victor's thigh, his fingers asking for permission to enter the pocket of Victor's trousers. The small motion made Victor tense up underneath Yuuri's touch, and Yuuri felt his ears turn slightly hot when he heard Victor's amused coo hum its way out of him.

"Whatever you're about to ask, it's a yes," came Victor's breathy reply.

Yuuri knew that it was a lie though, he'd seen how absent that part of Victor had been for the last few weeks, how flat he'd become. Kind of...uninterested in them in  _that_ way. Even though one could assume otherwise, Yuuri was beyond certain that Victor just engaged that part of his brain out of pure habit and entertainment without having any real purpose behind it. Like a dog chasing its tail.

"No," Yuuri admonished Victor lovingly, playing along a little to hide the sting inside, "stop that." He put his hand further down the pocket and grabbed hold of Victor's mobile phone when he, at the same time mumbled, "Can I play you a song?"

The way Victor's eyes narrowed was answer enough. Those humoring, enabling, smiling eyes that wordlessly asked Yuuri to go on with his proposition. Yuuri put his hand, the one not grabbing Victor's phone that was still in his pocket, in his windbreaker and rummaged around for his earbuds.

"I heard this in Detroit once, at the rink" Yuuri said, pulling out Victor's phone and connected his own earbuds to it, "and I always thought that…"

"Hm?" Victor cocked his head to the side with a quizzical look. "What?"

"No, nevermind," Yuuri said with a slightly embarrassed tone, trying to find Spotify in the sea of apps on Victor's phone.

" _No_ , tell me."

Victor's hand around Yuuri's wrist made him stop browsing through the phone, made him look up into those cerulean eyes that he knew would have  _that_ look. True enough, Victor's eyes were full of that headstrong curiosity, the one Yuuri knew wouldn't disappear until Victor would have received a satisfactory answer to his question.

"Um," Yuuri mumbled slightly abashed, "it's just stupid, you know?" He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before he inhaled, readying himself to reveal what he thought was an embarrassing secret. One that, in retrospect, should have been revealed sooner. But he had forgotten, stupidly enough, for life does that to a person when he's shaken, taken by surprise. Faced with things that can't ever feel real, things one doesn't want to be real. Maybe, by things one would want to be real, too.

As Yuuri let his breath out, he let the words follow. They rode on his exhale, found small bumps on the way.

"When I first heard this song, I… I kind of… I knew that if I would ever find someone, someone that I felt I li… no,  _loved_ , I…" Yuuri swallowed, feeling the saliva in his throat grow into a lump, "I would play this song for him. Because, then, it would be serious. Then, I…"

Yuuri felt his lower lip vibrate, taken by revealing something he never thought was for him. He put one earbud in his own ear and the other in Victor's, his hand shaking a little as he did.

"...then, I would know that there wasn't any doubt. That we were meant to be forever."

Yuuri gave Victor a brief glance, his eyes moving away from the phone as he was typing the title of the song in the search field. He averted them quickly. He couldn't bare seeing how Victor's eyes were filling up, how Victor stole one of his hands and kissed it and its fingers, one by one.

"Just listen, okay?" Yuuri mumbled, as he [pressed play](https://youtu.be/Li0jpfysBSI).

After a seemingly never ending intro, the words came to them both. The words Yuuri as a 21-year old in Detroit wondered if he would ever be able to share with someone else, fearing he probably never would have the chance to.

 

_Find me here, and speak to me_

_I want to feel you, I need to hear you_

_You are the light that's leading me to the place_

_Where I find peace again_

 

_You are the strength that keeps me walking_

_You are the hope that keeps me trusting_

_You are the life to my soul_

_You are my purpose_

_You're everything_

_And how can I stand here with you_

_And not be moved by you_

_Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?_

 

The feeling of Victor leaning into him, rest his head on his shoulder, told Yuuri that he had succeeded. He had broken through that fortification that had been raised up around Victor, the one that seemed impossible to even dent. He didn't mean to, he took no pride in that, but Victor's hand was digging into his now, almost hurting him as it tried to turn into a fist. Despite having their fingers interlaced.

 

_You calm the storms and you give me rest_

_You hold me in your hands_

_You won't let me fall_

_You steal my heart and you take my breath away_

_Would you take me in, take me deeper now_

_And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you_

_Would you tell me how could it be any better than this_

_And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you_

_Would you tell me how could it be any better than this_

 

During the second Yuuri knew it would take for the singer drew breath in order to deliver the chorus, he felt Victor let go of his hand. He wanted to hold on, to keep that contact between them but Victor immediately found his cheek with that wayward hand instead, asking him to come closer. Victor's lips they were against the side of his neck now, breathing hot and open-mouthed exhales. Continuing on pressing into him, burying into him.

"Don't move your arm, you'll pull it out," Yuuri breathlessly implored, for he could think of nothing else to say.

As soon as the singer started anew, that desperation in his voice that were so telling, so apt for the both of them, the grip against Yuuri's cheek loosened and travelled. When Victor's fingers found Yuuri's hair, they held on as he let go.

 

_Cause you're all I want, you're all I need_

_You're everything, everything_

_You're all I want_

_You're all I need_

_You're everything, everything_

_You're all I want_

_You're all I need_

_You're everything, everything_

_You're all I want_

_You're all I need_

_Everything, everything_

 

It was soundless, Victor's release against Yuuri's skin. If not for the vibrations against him, the huffs of air that seemed to get stuck where the two of them were joined together, Yuuri thought he would have never known. He would have remained oblivious to how Victor came down crumbling.

In that moment, he regretted it. He regretted letting his own feelings become known because of the impact it had on Victor. But at the same time, it felt good. Amazing even, to tell him something he'd been carrying within himself. Something he'd been yearning to share with Victor ever since the moment he knew that it was supposed to be them. He needed Victor to know that, after all. He wanted Victor to feel loved. And just like that, he blamed himself. Blamed himself for being so weak, for protecting himself. For not being the fighter he knew Victor considered him to be. For not being more, daring more, doing more.

 

_And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you_

_Would you tell me how could it be any better than this_

_And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you_

_Would you tell me how could it be any better, any better than this_

_And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you_

_Would you tell me how could it be any better than this_

_Would you tell me how could it be any better than this_

 

As the song ended, its last shivering notes slowly growing faint in their ears, it wouldn't subside. The shaking that had started in Victor, the one that reached out, grew and multiplied inside Yuuri. So they sat there, Yuuri on his chair next to Victor in his armchair, clambering on to each other like there was nothing else to do. Like nothing else could possibly make more sense.

With his eyes tightly pinched together to create the tension needed to not follow Victor's lead, feeling his cheek touch Victor's face, his neck wet from Victor's tear-drunken breath, his hands holding on to what he could of Victor, Yuuri had a passing thought. It was a small question really, that flickered past. He wondered if it was enough. But before he could find his answer, reach a consensus if you will, they were interrupted.

" _Oh,"_ the Russian voice said in surprise behind them, " _I have to… uh… before it coagulates."_

Yuuri understood that their display wasn't appreciated by the sound of the nurse, but Victor's grip tightened around him. He squeezed Victor's shoulder in response, trying to get him to ease up but it had the opposite effect. The way Victor's fingers dug in, the way they clenched his hair, made him understand that she had to tread lightly.

He heard Victor's reply. It was a muffled response spoken into his neck, something Yuuri paraphrased to ' _what are you waiting for, just do it already'_  with an edge he felt taken aback by. It was nothing compared to the small whine that followed, the one he knew only he could hear.

The nurse did what she was told and made no affair of it, although it was blatantly obvious that she had a retort growing in her mouth. The energy in that room said as much, her all-business approach on dealing with Victor was proof enough.

Yuuri felt uncomfortable, being stuck to Victor and being scrutinised by the nurse. It was a too intimate moment for others to partake in, it made them naked in ways that could never feel comfortable. But even more so, her eyes, for they managed to make eye contact despite Victor's vice-like grip, were harsh and seemingly unfavorable above her facemask when she flushed the port with saline and removed it shortly thereafter.

Yuuri didn't dare to think of what she wanted to say to them, but luckily her disgust, for that was probably what it was, remained undelivered as she walked away with the IV-stand in tow. Her steps sounded hurried and annoyed by the way her heels click-clacked against the floor.

In the silence left in her wake, Yuuri spoke anew. Simply by letting his hand move from Victor's shoulder up to his cheek instead, while the breaths against his neck followed his lead.

* * *

Even if Victor had felt tired since the day before, that feeling morphed into something else by the time they got home.

Though he'd tried, genuinely tried to keep it away from himself, it was taking him over. Bit by bit, breath by breath. It was smoldering just skin-deep, burning inside in a way that intimidated him. He couldn't understand what had brought it on. Was it due to having to go there yet again, being pricked and prodded? Marinated by a liquid corporeal decline? Was it due to hearing Yuuri's need for him, a need he wanted to redirect? A need he wanted to put out? Was it due to hearing that nurse, the poison in her voice, just because of him seeking comfort in a person who happened to be a man?

Maybe, it was all of those things that made him clench his teeth and fists. Maybe, even something more. Maybe, it was something else? Now, he understood that he had to keep it reined in but, oh, how good it would feel to just let it out. To just not give a single fuck. To just let the world know that he was done with trying so hard.

He toyed with the thought as he and Yuuri came through the door, as they started to take off their coats and shoes.

_What would be step one? To not give a shit?_

Victor walked into the living room and collected the dishes left there from their breakfast earlier. He absentmindedly carried two cups in one hand, small assiettes in the other, balancing them precariously together with the silverware. But instead of putting them in the sink, or better yet, wash them immediately, his mind found that winding trail again and he was lost in thought within a second. Still with the dishes in his hands, leaning against the countertop.

Step one, naturally, would be to stop with this travesty of a charade. But it felt insurmountable, engraved into the core that was him. Really him. But then again, Victor got a strange feeling that maybe, he actually didn't know himself. What that core consisted of. What made him… him. It was a feeling that turned into a voice inside. One that screamed at him, told him that he had gotten lost along the way, smothered by layers of layers of appeasement. Delivering smiles, standing tall, excelling time and time again without fail. Smiling at snide remarks and delivering a sharp retort on occasion, smiling at another medal and its empty achievement. Maybe he'd become what others expected him to be?

_Am I nothing but an expectation?_

Yes, step one would definitely be to quit that part of himself. To let Victor Nikiforov, the skater, the showman, the  _living legend_ , die before anything else. A lot of bad habits followed him, habits he needed gone in order to regroup and focus anew. Habits that would just continue on getting in the way. Last year, he'd thought that leaving it behind by officially retiring from skating, would lead to another kind of him developing. But, how regretful it was to acknowledge, he was still stuck. Chained to that persona and all that inevitably came with him.

"Let me take those."

Victor found a temporary pocket of air, of distraction, when Yuuri's fingers brushed against his. He realised that Yuuri held on to the assiettes, giving them a gentle tug to coax him to let them go. It made him do a short detour back into his own body, feeling the pull in his hands and the warmth against his fingers. Seeing their hands meeting over something as mundane as dirty dishes. Naturally, he let go.

He followed Yuuri with his eyes for a second or so, as he walked past him to get to the sink.

"Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest a bit?" Yuuri said over his shoulder, as he put down the dishes in the sink.

For some reason, Victor's pulse picked up hearing that. Those hard couple of thumps in his chest made his temples pulsate, made those golden bands feel incredibly snug around his finger, made him feel incredibly heated. And just like that, he had lost his way. Or found it, more like.

Step two, tell  _him_ everything. Exactly everything. No regrets, no regards, no nothing. He was sick of patronising questions, especially questions that the both of them had answers to.  _Of course_ , he wasn't feeling okay. He was tired,  _no shit!_  And why was that? Because he catered to  _him_ , because he'd made it his life's mission to make sure to keep  _him_ safe. Because he was wrapped around  _his_  finger. And yet, all those questions! Those ignorant questions coming from someone totally oblivious to anything else but himself! No, maybe this was step one, maybe this needed to be dealt with before anything else because he couldn't stand the stup—

A hand on his, a kiss on his cheek, a slow and tired sigh breathed into his ear. Dark eyes looking up at him. It was an eruption delayed, a cool blanket on his fiery agitation. A moment of blissful suspension.

"Tell me what's wrong."

One would have thought the question would have made him flare up again. Victor kind of thought that himself, but seeing those dark eyes look up at him from underneath an even darker fringe, made something change in him.

"It's nothing, Yuuri. Really," he said. Maybe, he didn't quite know exactly what that change was, just yet. Maybe, he wanted to be brave when being in front of the one who demanded it. Maybe, he was still chained to that unwanted, no unneeded, role of old. Old patterns repeating themselves, whenever that cool came and acted as a balm.

"Well, if… if you ask me, I'd say that… nothing seems to be pretty big today."

They embraced, skin trying to find skin. Hands venturing underneath the sweater of the other. Hearts finding a shared rhythm to beat to, breaths becoming in sync, two paths momentarily crossing before they undoubtedly would head off on different trajectories again. But not for long, although, unbeknownst to them.

Yes, standing there, settling down, Victor Nikiforov felt a change in himself. It was an otherworldly calm of some sort, something not attributed to the act of finding out how to not give a shit. No, in truth, that calm embodied something more painful than not caring. Something that could be described as the exact opposite.

Now, he just had to figure out what that meant to himself.

 

**~**~**

 

Falling asleep proved itself to be an impossible endeavour. Even though the night crept in, painting their bedroom with its muted colours and allowing just a few minimal specks of light from the outside to enter, Victor remained unaffected by its enticing promises. Of sleep, of a restful emptiness, of a pleasant oblivion until the next morning. There he was, wide awake, his mind putting pieces together. His mind making plans that he still wasn't aware of.

Even so, despite that frantic activity, his mind didn't seem to have an agenda. There were thoughts that created every possible emotion from bliss and anger, from hopelessness and love. His whole emotional register tagging in and tagging out, making it impossible for him to follow the twists and turns. Making him go deeper into that maze they had created.

It was as if he searched for the solution to a problem, a problem he wasn't even able to really box in and define. But still, something inside him told him to think a little more, a little harder. Told him to venture deeper, almost giving him a promise that he would find what he was looking for if he just kept at it. So, deeper he went. Following that promise of reaching that revelation.

And just like that, a panic grew when he approached something. It was just something that fluttered by, something that flickered much like those summer-born fireflies in Japan, but its impact was unmistakably real. It engaged him. Ravaged him. Made his mind and body connect for that miniscule moment.

He hated that feeling, the feeling of having absolutely no control, as he scrambled out of bed. With one hand prepared close to his mouth, he hurried to the bathroom. Six steps to reach the bedroom door, then a turn to the right. Four steps if he really tried, then another right turn into the bathroom. He knew he had to fight it, just for those few steps it would take to come through the door, hurry across the tiled floor and kneel. Then, it would be okay. Then, he could let go.

Needless to say, he didn't make it in time. He was just about to turn, just about to round that second corner and take those additional steps needed when his body reprimanded him, cursed him for his stupidity. For being all of those things that made his life hard and insincere. He caught the contents of his stomach in his hands, but he pushed on. Feeling his knees buckle underneath him, his consciousness narrowing into one tiny little speck that bravely tried to fight the blackness closing in. Feeling his heart race in a way that made him think that it wasn't even beating, that it had reached a standstill, or maybe, a panicked fluttering at best. Despite that, he pushed on.

He tumbled to the floor, one hand pathetically trying to grip something, the other cupping the still warm contents that had been inside him seconds earlier. He didn't realise it then, but he hit his head on the side of the toilet, being unable to brace himself since he was clawing at imaginary things, imaginary supports. There wasn't any pain luckily, not from his head nor knees, as he emptied himself anew.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Slowly, Victor caught his breath and felt himself come back with every expansion his stomach made. It was cold, there on the floor. Dark too. He blinked, somewhat confused that he was on his side, his cheek flattened against the tiles on the floor. Now, he felt a stinging pain from the area around his knees, and a throbbing sensation on his forehead.

As his vision slowly started to return, he noticed that he was facing the door. He realised he must have done some kind of pirouette on his way down, which could explain how contorted he felt being on his side with an arm being caught underneath the rest of his body. Oh, how embarrassing it felt, that he was sprawled out on the floor, there for a pathetic public display if someone would walk past it.

A silent prayer, hoping that he could have that moment alone without an audience, came and went as he swallowed. His mouth tasted foul, there was undoubtedly a special taste to it. The reaction to chemo, the reaction to panic. True, it tasted sour, but there was an undertone of something else there as well. Something he couldn't put into words. It almost made his body react anew, his stomach seemingly undecided if it wanted to go almost rigid before purging again. Simply, his body trying to ward itself from that taste. The memories attached to it. The meaning, as well.

He heaved himself up by holding on to the rim of he toilet with his free hand. It happened slow, at least to him, almost one centimetre at a time. His fingers slipping for some strange reason, not really being able to hold on the the porcelain surface. When he finally managed to sit upright, tucking his legs underneath himself for balance, Victor became disgusted. He didn't have to see it, the reason why his hands were sticky, the way the side of the toilet was soiled. He felt and smelt it, and that was enough.

— _gh_

_No._

— _ough_

_No!_

— _nough_

_NO!_

Victor knew that he'd made a half-assed job of cleaning the side of the toilet and the floor, using nothing but toilet paper to scrape everything up. The smell was still there, the stickiness too, but reason told him to leave it until later. Without any internal discussion he obliged, and tried to get to his feet. Just as slowly.

After wobbling in and out of the shower, taking it slow not to slip on the wet tiles, Victor found some mouthwash in the cabinet underneath the basin. He wasn't sure if he could manage to brush his teeth, feeling that unsteady, that shaky, and settled on gargling. Not just once, mind. Then, he headed back, staggering. Back to the warmth, the peace, the companionship. His body felt heavy despite being empty as he put one foot in front of the other, walking naked towards the bedroom. Feeling the cool air soothe his skin.

He came through the bedroom door and took a few steps towards that safe harbor that was the bed, and glanced towards Yuuri's side. How peaceful he was, there on his stomach. How unknowing he was, with slow breaths being drawn and released. Without a worry, without a fear. Victor wanted that for him, he realised. He wanted it to be easy.

With a groan, he almost fell into bed. Yes, his body was heavy as he hit the mattress, his head bouncing a little when it crashed with the pillow. But, that was actually good. Maybe, he would be able to fall asleep not before long.

Victor turned to his side and instinctively reached for his mobile phone on the nightstand. He wondered what the time was, if he would ever know how long his nightly personal horror had been. But instead of his fingers making a connection with it, they felt something else. Something that made him curl up around the hurt that gripped him from the inside.

A glass of water, still cool to the touch.

_enough?_

_No. A little longer. For him._

_enough._


	55. Year Two: Spring, part nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two songs mentioned in this chapter. The first one,  ** _[Up In the Air](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9uSyICrtow)_** , written by Jared Leto and performed by **_Thirty Seconds to Mars_**  © Universal Music Publishing Group. The second,  ** _[Polovtsian Dances](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGNObWgU2Qw)_** , from the opera  _ **Prince Igor**_ , written and composed by **_Alexander Borodin_**.
> 
> Thanks to [TenchiKai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai) for being my beta. Highly appreciated!

 

On the third day, decisions were made. Decisions that would make them end, reevaluate and embrace what they had left. Although, waking up that morning, none of them knew that the day would take such a turn.

It was Victor who woke up first, strangely enough, especially considering how he'd spent his night. It came to him slow and tentative, that awakening. That feeling of sneaking into another state of consciousness, becoming more and more lucid with every breath. That feeling of gaining ownership and control of what sleep was allowed to borrow during the night. With that change of hands, sleep allowing himself to be his own master, came memories and sensations he might as well could've done without.

He remembered the night, how sleep never got the confidence to fully claim him, or at least, not at first. How he'd had thoughts galloping around inside, making him unsure if he had been riding them or if it had been the other way around. He remembered the feeling he'd had inside, how it made him panic, made him hurry out of bed, made him hurry down the hall and—

_Blyad._

—made him wake up on the floor. But that wasn't the worst part, feeling the tiles pressing into his face, the throbs and stings from his head and knees, of feeling weak and disgusting with the strange chemo-tainted bile corroding his mouth. No, the worst part of it all was coming back to bed and the discoveries being made there.

After all, it looked so innocent. Caring, even. Just a glass of water on his nightstand, ready for him when he got back. But that seemingly simple act made a lot of thoughts converge and tangle together, creating a chaos that Victor couldn't solve.

He had been trying to keep that away from Yuuri, those harrowing consequences and those that would probably follow. The reasons as to why? Impossible to pinpoint. It could have been out of love, but he knew that was probably wishful thinking. He thought the reasons were closer to shame, closer to him being stubborn, maybe even something more dark and sinister. Maybe, he just wanted Yuuri not as close because in the end, it wouldn't really matter. Not until he was done with it, that purgatory before he would be given peace when the both of them could finally settle in what they had left. Oh, how he longed for that to happen.

All things considered, Victor saw that it was different now. It was apparent that Yuuri  _knew_. Yuuri knew that it was just like the last time around, Yuuri knew what it did to him and what it inevitably would continue doing. Yes, Yuuri knew, and still… he'd left him alone. Letting a glass of water do his bidding.

Yuuri knew, and still considered that it should continue.

Victor tried to understand, being on his back in bed, feeling more and more awake with each passing second. He tried to understand why. Why Yuuri would do such a thing, why he never said something, why he chose to just pass him by when he'd been there in the bathroom because he must have seen him after all. Why he must have pretended to sleep when he got back from showering and rinsing his mouth. Why he thought it was worth it.

Somehow, a shared knowledge was actually worse than standing alone, Victor realised. Especially since the both of them bit their tongues despite it all, despite discoveries made although desperate tries to hide them. They were holding their silence, and for what? In truth, Victor knew that he wasn't free from fault, he hadn't been exactly upfront with how the side effects of the chemo impacting him immediately. But at least, his actions came from a good place. He just couldn't see how Yuuri's could be considered to be good.

With a sigh, Victor rolled over to his side and faced the nightstand. The glass was still there, naturally. Almost automatically, he opened his nightstand drawer and put his hand in, knowing very well where to start his search. He found the small box and took it out of the drawer, opened it and pressed out a pill from the blister pack.

Watching the pill as it burrowed into the crease of his palm, Victor couldn't help but think how hopeless it all felt. Taking pills to cull nausea, pills that didn't even work. Pills that stopped his body from reacting to what was put inside him, what his body wanted gone. The charade just continuing for another day.

Nevertheless, he put it in his mouth and reached for the glass of water. The mouthful was warm as he swallowed.

_Why, Yuuri?_

He was supposedly ready now. Ready for what would happen in some hours time. His body would be tricked not to protest, making it docile enough to stand what it had to go through. Just one more day short of making it four. Just one more day of convincing, of pretending, of enduring. Of playing the part and selling it to others. Just one more day of being Victor Nikiforov.

After putting back the glass on the nightstand, Victor closed his drawer, making sure not to make any noise. He looked at his mobile phone briefly, just to see what time it was. There was still time to stay in bed if he wanted to. And oh, how he wanted to. At least for now.

Victor felt Yuuri shift behind him, accompanied by a small noise. One that sounded a little like a mix between a grunt and a sigh, like there were equal amounts of effort and relief in his movement. Victor fought his initial reaction to turn around and face Yuuri, to turn around and embrace him, to turn around, melt into him and surrender to the feeling of belonging nowhere else.

He wondered why that was, why he fought himself, as he suddenly gave in.

Yuuri was facing him now, still asleep with his eyes closed and almost completely covered by his hair. His cheek was a bit compressed against his hand, making his lips pucker and open up slightly and in turn, making some kind of soft sound as be breathed through his mouth.

Victor touched Yuuri's lips with the tip of his finger, softly and just once. The sensation, of pressing against and retracting, teased the corners of his mouth a little. He liked how it felt bouncy and warm against his fingertip, maybe a little wet too. He continued with brushing away a few strands of hair to see Yuuri better, to uncover those eyes that were closed shut by a myriad of black lashes.

_Why did you do that?_ Victor thought to himself, feeling strand after strand of black hair falling back into place as they escaped his fingers.  _Of all the things you could possibly do,_   _you had to do that?_

He put his nose in Yuuri's hair and closed his eyes. Yes, this was familiar. This was safe. This was what he needed. Being close, hearing nothing but Yuuri's slow breaths, feeling nothing but Yuuri's heart and pulse against himself, catching whiffs of dinner from yesterday, citrusy body wash and maybe even the smallest hint of himself, all sticking to that black forest of hair.

" _No matter. I know you know,"_ Victor mouthed in Russian into the field of dark, thick strands that were tickling his upper lip. Slowly finding himself occupied thinking about how he knew that he wanted something different for himself. For the both of them. Trying to find the clues and cues on to how to make it so.

 

**~**~**

 

No clues, nor cues, were found later that morning when they first met, almost bumping into each other in the doorway to the bathroom. Smiles were exchanged then, genuine ones, as they tended to do when seeing the other and noticing his reaction. Always making the first meeting of the day special and unique.

"Morning," Victor heard Yuuri mumble against him, the words aimed at his chest when caught in an embrace.

"Morning, Yuuri. Did you sleep well?"

Victor was offered a small nod in return as Yuuri eased up his arms around him and gently pushed him aside, the touch lingering on the side of his chest as Yuuri walked past him. He listened to the footsteps across the tiles, the lid to the toilet opening and the stream that shortly followed, but he remained where he was. Wondering if he had to say anything, and in that case, what. This time, he didn't have to.

"Smells good in here," Yuuri commented over the sound of the toilet flushing.

"Yeah, I… I cleaned a little," Victor said as he turned around to meet the sound, trying not to feel invaded by the scent he thought he had washed off his hands.

"Oh…" Yuuri was in front of the mirror, his head bent down as he began lathering up his hands. "Was it needed?"

"It was."  _You know this just as well as I do. Don't you?_

Their eyes met for a second in the mirror before Yuuri leaned over a bit and picked up the towel that was next to the basin. He unfolded it with a small flick of his wrist and began patting his hands dry.

Victor wondered about that look, that brief glance that lasted not even a second. He managed to read things into it, many, many things. Not a single one of his interpretations were in his favour.

"Have you had any breakfast?"

Yuuri's question made him direct his focus outward, and Victor found himself a little surprised to see Yuuri standing in front of him now, maybe two paces away.

"No," he answered truthfully, "I don't think I want anything."

The sigh was impossible to keep inside. There was something about that touch, the way Yuuri's hands suddenly came close, locked themselves around the back of his neck, the way he could feel Yuuri's stomach expand against his, the warmth he brought with him as he came close that made Victor exhale. It was a longing, he realised, a longing for something more, a longing for saying all of the things he wanted Yuuri to—

"You have to eat, Victor," Yuuri whispered underneath strands of dark hair, their lips almost touching in the same way their noses already did.

Victor felt the words form into something thick, something that continued to grow. Something that, god forbid, wanted to fight its way out of his mouth, take a suicidal leap off his lips and tongue and not care where it ended up.

"It's no use," the words said when they started to pour out of him, "not when it's all going to co—"

He winced. How could something that soft still feel so grating against his skin? Maybe, it was due to where they, Yuuri's lips, were placed. Without any pardon, gently colliding with the bump Victor knew was on his forehead.

"You. Need. To. Eat." Yuuri's soft command followed every kiss, as his mouth travelled.

Victor closed his eyes then, felt yet another kiss on his forehead, on the bridge of his nose, on his right eyelid before there was a pause. A most excruciating pause before they met anew, mouth to mouth.

That kiss didn't deliver a fire, a yearning, a promise. If anything, at least to Victor, it felt like an imploration of some kind. A question, posed by that gentle touch that was dry, slow and bittersweet in its nature. One he didn't speak the language of and naturally, couldn't understand.

"I'll make you something," Victor heard Yuuri say as he walked past him. "Come."

They walked in a single file towards the kitchen, Victor trailing a bit behind, feeling reluctant. His eyes were stuck on the canvas that was Yuuri's back, muscles and bone moving underneath the grey t-shirt. Rising and falling, making valleys and hills while stretching the fabric. It felt like a lifetime, seeing that body in motion, seeing it being used the way it was meant to even though he knew it wasn't long ago he saw it last. Victor couldn't help blaming himself though, for he was the one who had put a stop to that. Yeah, to think that he took it away. The expression that was,  _is_ , Yuuri Katsuki. All locked away for safekeeping, within their four walls. Downgraded to make something as trivial as breakfast when it could be used for other things. Magnificent things. Things he still wanted to experience in his lifetime.

Once Victor rounded the corner made by the freezer and the fridge, he was being told to sit and wait on one of the stools by the kitchen island. It happened wordlessly, Yuuri offering him nothing but a brief smile and a nod before he continued to look through a pantry, picked out some things and continued with raiding the fridge.

Victor sat down and watched in silence. The show that played out before him.

When cooking, Yuuri usually had the same facial expression as when he skated. He sported a small frown, his eyebrows giving him a slightly concentrated look. One that was enhanced by his lips being a bit pursed together as he focused. Every once in a while, he would push his hair away from his eyes a little, especially if it got caught in between his glasses and his forehead, and Victor could see a slight annoyance in Yuuri when the strands simply fell back into place. Like they always did, no matter how many times Yuuri kept trying to gain the upper hand.

When focused, Yuuri was someone else entirely. No matter if he was skating, cooking, occasionally dancing… hell, even when giving or receiving pleasure, he would have that expression that Victor remembered that he'd felt mesmerised by. Ever since the very moment Yuuri'd caught  _his_  focus for the first time. But that was Yuuri, really. Sometimes awkward and insecure in the flesh, but when he could disregard that, when he really could dive into a task or challenge without second guessing himself and just feel it, he was magical.

Their hands touched a little when Yuuri placed plates, drinking glasses and cups on the marble surface of the kitchen island. Victor saw that Yuuri lost his momentum then, like their touch pulled him out of that other persona. It was like he'd finished a skating program, when the off switch had been flipped after that final pose. When he was back to being him again.

"Don't bother with this," Victor said, wondering why it felt like an apology. But also, wondering what 'this' really meant. To him and to Yuuri.

Yuuri didn't reply though, not at first. He continued to pour the egg mixture he'd whisked into a frying pan, and began stirring a little. Probably to prevent the omelette, Victor's best guess, from burning. After seasoning a little, Yuuri replied, low and with a slight hint of something challenging in his voice, "Like you shouldn't have bothered cleaning."

Victor wasn't sure if it was a flash of embarrassed heat or a gust of fear, bringing with it that impermeable cold that spread out across his skin just seconds after. Maybe, it was a little bit of both. Maybe, it had nothing to do with that, and more to do with some kind of strange anticipation where hot and cold tried to blend together, because this was as close as they'd been. Talking about it, that is. About his own sacrifice, the one he wished he hadn't said yes to in a moment of weakness. The one with the consequences Victor wanted nothing to do with, to for it did nothing else than to take things from them.

It was probably just a few seconds that had passed, just a few seconds being caught in that alternating, playing temperature, but instead of finding anything to say, Victor felt his body and mind converge again. Their collision setting him ablaze, making him combust and spill over with what they had decided, against his better judgement.

"Oh, yeah?" Victor found himself say, sounding caught between layers and layers that muffled the sound of his voice, making him feel like he wasn't inside of himself, "Then don't bother. Don't bother! With breakfast, with your damn skating, with, with—"

"Wha…"

"—with putting fucking glasses of water on my nightstand and just pretend everything's fine! Yeah, don't bother!"

The way Yuuri said nothing, how he just slowly finished making the omelette by putting it on a plate, folded it in half with his spatula and turned the stove off without looking at him, only fanned the fire inside Victor.

"Oh, and don't fucking  _bother_ going with me today! I don't want you there! Do you hear me?!"

It was strange, how his voice filled up the room. How the words spoken seemed to linger long enough to expand, to morph into an entity of their own that made them company. One that seemed to sit patiently in between them, waiting for someone to make a move. Daring them to continue what had been started. Teasing them, almost.

"Here." Yuuri's voice was barely noticeable over the sound of the plate being pushed over the stone surface, pushed towards Victor. "Eat before you go."

* * *

The flat became silent after that, after the sudden cacophony of quickened steps, keys rattling, clothes rustling and a door slamming shut ended. In that silence, he remained. A just as silent Yuuri Katsuki.

The omelette was cold by then when the initial shock left him, when it passed him along to make his acquaintance with an old friend called Rumination who, in turn, embraced him without asking questions and allowed him to do what he did best. Which was to dissect every word, every move, all the things unsaid and undone in the hopes of understanding what had happened.

Except for the obvious, the fact that Victor had left with nothing but harsh words filling up his absence, Yuuri found himself in disbelief. Feeling strangely flat and somewhat empty. For in his mind, he had been forthcoming. Easing himself closer and closer to Victor, testing the waters of his own limitations, trying to find out where Victor was in relation to himself and what he could do to get even closer.

Yuuri understood that, poking the omelette a little with the fork that never touched Victor's lips or entered his mouth, he'd failed somehow. Victor's reaction was proof enough, the rage that combusted without as much as a warning. For they had been on good terms that morning, offering each other closeness and touches, smiles and kisses like they used to. So, where did it go wrong? Or rather, what was the catalyst for him to suddenly disappoint Victor?

Staring down on the jabbed omelette but seeing nothing else than himself walking into the bathroom, Yuuri retraced the steps made that morning. He'd heard Victor in the bathroom a while before he decided to get up, messing around with bottles, running water and the toilet. Yuuri had understood, at least after a while of just listening to the noises from the bathroom, that he had to wait. So, although it pained him, he had stayed where he was. Trying to respect Victor, his unspoken need for privacy but at the same time, battling that fear that had taken over his stomach.

_And then?_

Yuuri saw himself get out of bed, after things had gone silent. Slowly, hesitantly. Yes, he'd gotten out of bed with a heart beating hard, wondering what he would find once he would peer through the doorway to the bathroom. He had held his breath, for yesternight's view had been jarring to see; Victor heaving himself up from the floor and walking slowly towards the shower area before the glass wall partition distorted his image, Victor's underwear appearing on the floor before the sound of the shower was turned on. That was when Yuuri had hurried to the kitchen, feeling sick to his stomach yet again, knowing that he couldn't possibly witness that for another second. Knowing that he couldn't be found out of bed because of the discussion that he knew would follow would be impossible to bear.

But he'd seen nothing that reminded him of that view, not that morning. He was met by a smiling Victor, a Victor that immediately had opened up his arms and pulled him in. That had made him relax so he'd walked past Victor and, Yuuri's ears heated up a little as he remembered, used the toilet even though Victor was there. Some of the tension following the stream down into the bowl. The bowl that had been meticulously cleaned.

_After that?_

He'd tried to disregard Victor's comment when he washed his hands, regretting that he'd searched for Victor's eyes in the mirror before turning the faucet off. Victor's eyes, they'd… been like that, they had the same expression as every time he'd been close to dissolving. No matter what emotion was behind the reaction. So Yuuri remembered thinking that he could redirect that, he could make Victor stray from the path he seemed to be on. He could try to defuse whatever was threatening to explode, for Victor hadn't been himself.

So he'd put his arms around him, his lips on him, his body against him and tried with all his might to make Victor forget. Offering the closeness he knew he could, offering the actions he felt comfortable with. Yes, Victor had been fussing, the same issues with his appetite as last time around, but he'd accepted the diversion. His eyes softening just a little.

So, together, they'd walked to the kitchen. Victor sat down, watched him because he always did that, and—

_That's right._

—he'd told him not to bother.

A tear jumped off of Yuuri's lashes and landed down on the marble, right between the plate and his hands. He felt just as cold as he'd been then, he realised, just as immobilised as when he heard Victor say that. ' _Don't bother with this'_ , that was what he'd said.

_Don't bother? Bother?!_

Yuuri couldn't understand why he'd felt humiliated hearing that and more importantly, why that humiliation still hadn't waned. Why it still made his skin move as if it wanted to free itself from him, why it still made him feel like he'd done something stupid, something wrong. After all, he was trying but why wasn't that enough? Could it be that he was  _bothering_ with the wrong things, really? If so, what could possibly be considered right?

That was when he'd understood what Victor had been doing in the bathroom, something that only added to said humiliation. For why would Victor clean the bathroom if not to hide all of the things that he himself fought so hard to come to terms with? Not even giving him a chance? Why was Victor… so unfair?

Yuuri made a small noise where he sat, removed his glasses with one hand and wiped his eyes with the back of his other. The voice inside himself told him to go, to put his body through movement and motion so that he could forget what he was thinking of himself. What Victor was thinking of him. But, he didn't know where he would go, what he would do to make those pestering thoughts inside to leave. After all, he wasn't a skater now. He'd ended that to be with Victor. Victor who seemingly had forgotten the steps, albeit small, he'd made to make him feel loved. Victor who would ultimately—

_Don't you remember what_ you  _said?_

Again, Yuuri became lost. Like a wayward child trying to understand the connection between cause and consequence, he tried to remember his exact words because in his head, they hadn't sounded all that bad. They hadn't been provoking nor unjust. They had just been forming a simple statement, meeting up the unreasonable in what Victor had said.

' _Like you shouldn't have bothered cleaning'._ That was all. Said without any cheek, just a simple string of sounds to make Victor understand how bizarre his request was. But that was when Victor reacted, so sudden and intense, with a loud voice and words that had made no sense, at least, not to Yuuri.

Sitting there, Yuuri found himself unable to remember. What Victor had said, at least exactly. In that unattainable memory, was his clue, or key as it were, to understand. But although how many times Yuuri went through the morning, from hearing Victor in the bathroom to hearing him slam the front door shut, again and again, he couldn't get past that feeling he had. Deep, deep inside him was something that felt reasonable and true, but nonetheless painful. Acting like a roadblock or a guard to what was beyond. He wanted to go beyond, he realised, he needed to remember what Victor had said but stopped at the same place, whipped by the same emotion.

_He's blaming me,_  Yuuri sniffed after thinking that, feeling his shoulders tense up as if they were bracing for what his body was conditioned to release.  _He's blaming me, because he, he…_

The silence that had lingered became pushed away and couldn't find its way back, stopped by a roadblock strung tightly together by vocal heartbreak.

* * *

It was an odd occurrence, being early. Victor knew that his habit of being the opposite, no matter the occasion, had given him the reputation of being self-centered and not respectful of other people's time. But, little did others know that Victor Nikiforov had always battled things, things that probably came easier to others.

Unbeknownst to many, Victor had always fought for his autonomy, something that had lead to him prioritising. Choosing between the right or the good. Usually, after hesitating, he tended to choose what was good, but even though it was expected of him to choose the good, it was rarely something he wanted. People never got that, why he had been late to press conferences, practice sessions and dinners throughout the years, why he was considered whimsical and unreliable. The remarks told him as much. Truth be told, it had been his own way of protesting, being late and being whimsical, often smoothed over with a wink and a smile when being reprimanded. But inside, he had quivered, for every decision meant losing himself, little by little, until he had found himself completely lost. At least, until that fateful day in Sochi where he could honestly say that the events that followed, had been  _him_  talking,  _him_ acting solely on fulfilling what he wanted.

Today really was a first though, being forced to choose something that was neither right or good. Just unnecessary. Just another sad happenstance of him losing himself a little bit more, returning to patterns of old.

Being early brought with it a nervousness, one he hadn't even expected when he'd stormed out of the flat, leaving an upset husband behind. The nervousness came to him the moment as he had stepped out of the lift at the hospital, when the scorching anger he'd previously felt left just enough room for other emotions to take over that vacant space and express themselves. When the realisation hit him that he would have to sit and wait on his own, there at the hospital, and maybe even become recognised if he was unlucky. He could see it, tabloid headlines coming and going on the inside of his eyelids. ' _Top figure skater with terminal illness'_ , ' _The reason to the step-down of Russia's living legend'_ , ' _The surprise Victor Nikiforov doesn't want_ you  _to know'._

Victor found himself frozen as he heard the doors of the lift close behind him, when he found himself alone. He had to get someone's attention, he couldn't possibly sit in that cramped waiting room, not today. He looked to his left, there was the entrance to the waiting room and the corridor that would lead him inside the oncology department. To the right, a corridor that seemed to go on and on, leading to god knows where.

He swallowed, feeling his pulse pick up. The sensation, that dull throbbing on the side of his neck, on the inside of his wrists which he hated so much. It was the first sign of losing control, the first sign to relinquishing all of those things he never allowed to escape him not even when choosing between right and good. Feeling somewhat light headed, he prepared himself to find something to support himself with and began backing up. Towards the doors of the lift in order to feel something stable having his back, no matter if it was just a wall or cold sliding doors made of metal. Although, he wanted those surfaces to be Yuuri instead. Yuuri's warmth, Yuuri's softness. Just like when he held on to him during yesterday's fateful hour.

His fingertips were the first things to touch the uneven walls, then his elbows, then his palms. Just as he prepared himself to lean back, to really seek that support of something so trivial, to really breathe, he heard a voice accompanied by footsteps to his right, coming out of that never ending corridor.

"Victor? You are early today," the female voice said in Russian, making him seek out the owner of said voice with a slight glance.

He recognised her, that nurse, although they hadn't really said anything to each other during the year he had been coming and going. Not anything worth remembering anyway, for their conversations had been restricted to her saying niceties and 'just a small sting', 'I'm turning it on now' and 'all done', to what he'd replied 'yeah', 'okay' and 'thank you'. The both of them holding back from other topics, probably because all they shared was unlucky circumstances.

This nurse, she was slightly older than the others he usually dealt with, or maybe her appearances fooled him. Her hair, a bit of salt added to the pepper, was stretched tight into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore one of those chains fastened to the temples of her glasses that chimed a little whenever she moved, and the way she acted that gave him the feeling of a grandmother's wisdom. Her eyes, blue as his own, had a dignity to them that spoke of age, of experiencing hardship but pulling through.

"Y-yeah," he started, "I kind of…"

She gave him a little smile and beckoned him to follow her. So, he did. He walked past that waiting area, looking in the opposite direction and pulled down on his beanie a bit to prevent others from seeing him pass by before they entered the oncology department.

It felt different now, being there alone. Even though the occasions Yuuri had been with him easily could be counted on the fingers of one hand, impossible to have been turned into a routine due to being so few, walking down that corridor felt worse now. A sticky mess of reluctancy, trepidation and despair. Like he'd made a mess of something, lost his chance.

"If you'd like, we could start you off? I guess you have other things to do than to wait?"

Not wanting to let her, this somewhat familiar stranger, in on his morning and how his life was in general, he gave her a low and simple answer. "Okay," Victor said, his voice almost drowned out due to their combined footsteps echoing in the hallway.

"Good," the nurse answered as she walked towards that room he knew all too well, feeling her pocket for her keys. She unlocked the door and stepped aside, asking him to enter with a small hand gesture. "There. Go ahead and sit. I'll be with you in a moment."

But Victor didn't sit down as asked. Instead, he walked towards the window and simply stood there, allowing his eyes find the landmarks he could recognise, like the glittering proof of the Gulf of Finland beyond the buildings down below, hearing the door behind him close with a soft click.

Victor found that his thoughts, and the nervousness from before, began to wash away when he started to find the inlet of the gulf into the harbor of St. Petersburg, further away into the distance. Strange, how the sea always called out to him, made him stop and consider things he was too afraid to face alone. It was as if the sea always managed to ground him, act as a calm companion with nothing but his well-being in mind. A benevolent force that didn't care about things like the right or the good. Like when he'd been standing on the walkway in Barcelona, looking at his ring in the sunlight whilst realising that he'd found what he had been looking for. Like when he'd been sitting on the beach in Hasetsu, close to Yuuri, wishing for Yuuri to see him for what he really was. Like when he'd been walking through the fresh snow as a teenager, towards the sea sneaking into St. Petersburg, wondering if he'd made the right choices up until then.

_Choices, huh…_

Victor heard the door open behind him and it was the nurse who came back as promised, dressed in the oh-too-familiar plastic getup from head to toe whilst pushing the IV-stand closer to the leather armchair.

"Have a seat," she said, putting the small metal tray with something that seemed encased in plastic, Victor's qualified guess was that it was the cannula, on the armrest of the armchair.

Victor unbuttoned his coat as he walked up to the armchair, shrugging himself out of it. He folded it and put it on the other armrest before sitting down with a sigh he'd preferred to keep inside. It sounded heavy, that exhale. Bothered by the morning's events, his mood thereafter and being there now, in that room. That armchair.

He absentmindedly grabbed the sleeve of the black shirt he was wearing and rolled it up, exposing his arm. The nurse's fingers where warm through her latex gloves when she touched the bend of his arm, feeling the veins visible underneath the delicate skin.

"We usually put it here, right?"

"Yes," Victor replied, feeling a tension in his stomach prevent him from saying anything else.

"You're so bruised here," the nurse said, "how about your other arm?"

Victor allowed a combined shrug and shake of his head act as his answer, because he didn't know. He wasn't really sure that he cared, either. It would hurt just as much, make him feel just as sick, no matter where it would enter him. Why even make a choice?

The nurse's hands moved across his arm, down to his hand. The procedure repeated herself, her warm fingers feeling the veins on the back of his hand instead.

"Shall we put it in here instead?" She tapped the back of his hand a little.

Victor made a small noise, something that must have sounded like he was agreeing for the nurse was already at work with alcohol swabs and a rubber band to pop his veins. Victor promptly decided to look out the window instead.

"Relax your hand a bit, please," the nurse said as the was feeling the veins with a finger. "Pretend we're having a conversation. Tell me what you think of the room."

"The room?" Victor replied, feeling nothing less than sheepish whilst watching the clouds race across the sky from where he sat. The wind seemed to have picked up making him wonder if he, despite his woolen coat and beanie, could battle the northward gusts that had been travelling across the sea, only to find their way into the city between buildings and trees. He adjusted his beanie, that black oversized one he got from Yuuri almost a year ago, with his free hand, pulling it down slightly over his forehead. Unaware of his action and how the knitted patterns felt against his fingertips and palm, his mind turned dark when thinking of the room.

"Yes, the room," the nurse repeated, still feeling the back of his hand. "Very few get this kind of luxury," she added after a pause.

Ah, yes. Victor knew that his demand probably would sting the eyes of others. How he, after his first treatment session told Dr. Popyrin that he would never,  _never_ , be seen with a bag stuck to his arm in that manner. Forcing him to sit with the other patients, no matter how egotistical it would sound… no, it simply wouldn't happen. Not when he had a life to live, which entailed having eyes on him, on everything around him. On Yuuri. Indeed, it was a life of being constantly judged and observed. That was when the doctor came with a counter offer. One that, naturally demanded something more… pecuniary to settle the deal. It was Russia, after all.

That was why he'd been allowed to sit in that room with the large window and the armchair in the first place, to keep the privacy he'd fought so hard for to stay protected. When he, indeed, had a life to live.

Victor wasn't so sure if that requisite still applied, now. The life to live-part. Maybe, that was why the nurse had said the things she did. Maybe, she thought it was stupid, unnecessary even, to let someone claim a room all to himself when it was apparent that the original purpose just wasn't there anymore. To keep secrets under lock and key, just to allow a charade to continue. A charade that actually ended months ago but remained on life support due to fear and things unsaid.

It was like flipping a switch. With a smile, an earnest and curious one at that, Victor replied, "You think it's unfair that I g―"

He winced as the cannula went through his skin, but tried to keep his eyes directed at the window. At the sea.

"Continue," the nurse implored as she tested if the needle had gone in correctly, loosening the band around his arm and flushing the cannula with saline. Victor felt the tell-tale pressure underneath his skin as the fluid went in, making the vein expand.

"―get this kind of benefit."

"Far from it," came the reply.

With that, the nurse stood up, uncoiled the tube attached to the bag filled with the cytostatic liquid and connected it with the cannula. After checking that it flowed by fidgeting with the settings a bit, she started to gather the things left on the armrest.

Victor saw her reflection in the window, so the touch on his shoulder didn't come as a surprise. It made him turn his head though, made him look up into those blue eyes behind those glasses.

"What I'm asking you is actually this; did it help you?"

She was without judgement in her voice, without anything that was meant to put him in his place. She sounded just as curious as he felt, just as mild. Victor realised that it was a serious question, one asked out of concern for him as a patient. Maybe, even for him as a person and perhaps, for him as a public figure. Once.

"No," Victor responded truthfully, feeling his heart vibrate in unison with the world uttered. "But I didn't really have a choice."

The nurse replied by removing her glasses to let them hang by that dainty chain around her neck. She was studying him for a while, her eyes going a little back and forth when looking into his. It almost made Victor want to look away, for her eyes were deep inside him, making him feel like an open book. Naked, without defences. Ready to be… read. Strange, how all of those ideas came just by a look alone. Finally, she broke the silence with words sounding light and carefree, unfit for the situation they just left behind. "You need anything before I go?"

Hearing that, Victor's stomach growled. It was a reprimand, it telling him off due to his stupidity of him previously making a scene, of not eating what had been offered him at breakfast. He shook his head, added a small 'no' and drifted away on that sea of thoughts the nurse's question had stirred, his eyes searching out the sea. And, not even noticing the door closing behind him.

Strange as it was, he stayed awake this time, stayed in the moment without shattering. Slowly straying from thoughts engaged, becoming occupied with just looking out that window and not much else. It was an empty state of mind Victor had poured himself into, one where he felt that he was in a bubble, a womb of quietude without the outside bothering him.

He loved it there. It brought on a normalcy, a sense of it at least, for throughout the years, he'd spent many hours just like that. Watching things happen in the outside world, staying quiet and unresponsive to them. Making himself find a place where the goods and the rights didn't matter, where he could just be… him.

Not before long, the hour had almost passed, making him forced to allow the outside to look in again. Or maybe, allow himself to be born into all of that he had relished to stay clear of during that hour. Making him lose that cool, that sense of knowing where he fit in and who he was. Despite what happened first, the outside getting in or him being delivered into it, it was the sounds that made it happen. Words spoken outside the door even before it even opened, the outside pressing into him, the umbilical cord torn from him as he fell into the outside world.

The nurse didn't say anything when she approached him this time, it was like the previous times they'd met. She being a nurse, he being a patient. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, though, she was more business, acted without dallying. Checking the bag to make sure it was starting to run dry at first and continued with her preparations to remove the cannula.

"I'm going to remove it now," she said, "but you'll have to relax a bit. Don't fist your hands like that, you'll bruise."

Warm hands was touching him again, loosening tape and staying at the ready with swabs and band-aids.

"I've been thinking about what you said," the nurse said, fingers closing in on the cannula, maybe even holding on to it.

"Hm?" Victor averted his eyes from his hand. They caught up with the clouds that rolled across the sky, preparing himself for the sting he knew was about to come.

"Yes. I believe we always have choices," the nurse continued, "but it tends to boil down to if we want to deal with the consequences or not. If we find ourselves ready or not. Don't you think?"

The small sting wasn't small, not this time. If felt like insides getting ripped out, tangled around an object too big. One that took away everything that fit in between insecurity and pride as it retracted. A band-aid, Victor thought, could never be enough to stop that bleeding. He began fisting his hands again.

"So," the nurse said, her voice feeling as cool as the alcohol that evaporated from the back of Victor's hand, "one has to ask, ultimately; ' _Am I worthy of what I want, not what I need?'_ Because, there's a difference. Sometimes, they don't see eye to eye."

Victor sat, numb in that armchair as the nurse began gathering everything up. The cannula, the swabs, the plastic bits and bobs. As he was watching her, for hearing her say what she just did made his head whip back from the window and the tattered clouds, Victor realised one thing. One thing that was way overdue, stupidly disregarded. One thing he already knew but had to be reminded of, or rather, nudged in its direction to fully take heed of.

"I… I, uh…" he started, standing up slowly. He reached for his coat, buttoned it as in slow motion after pulling his arms through the sleeves. He glanced at the nurse, decided that it was just as good that he kept himself busy with something, anything, when he finally continued, "I won't be coming here. Not tomorrow. Not… at all. So… thank you."

If Victor had looked her way instead of turning around, instead of heading towards the door, he would have seen her move her face mask. He would have heard her response, one that she, upon seeing him walk away, decided to keep inside herself.

' _Oh, I know,'_  is what she intended to say, because she had witnessed it too many times. The birth of the final decision in a person who allowed himself to really, finally, make that choice.

 

**~**~**

 

Victor must have entered that bubble again, for everything became strangely still. The outside became blurred, the sounds almost melted away. Being in that bubble, he felt nothing. Even though the wind outside did its best to pull him away from that moment of suspension, with clawing attacks that pulled at his clothes, he stayed in that blessed void. Just putting one foot in front of the other, aimlessly walking. Not at all realising what he'd just done.

That came later.

When Victor allowed himself to take in the outside anew, albeit briefly, he realised that he had walked another way. He had probably walked through town, along the river like always, but somewhere along that walk, something must have made him make an unconventional turn. One he never expected himself to make considering the circumstances.

When the outside finally made an effort to pop that bubble, not quite making it so but still disrupting the order of things, Victor found himself on the steps leading up to what he for the longest time had considered to be home. He wasn't quite sure what he felt about it now, for even though this particular place had given him a lot, success, fame and attention being just a few drops in that bottomless sea, it had robbed him of so much more. For as soon as its very soul had seeped into him, making him a part of it, making him succumb to the mindset within those walls, everything else, everything on the outside, became unattainable.

He looked up at the large glass doors that were reflecting the few rays of sunlight that managed to break through the clouds. It was as if the building was beckoning him to walk up those steps, enter and just—

Victor removed his leather gloves and put them in his pockets, feeling his feet move up the stairs. One step at a time until his hand was gripping the handle of one of the doors, feeling his arm pull back.

The smell was peculiar, as smells tend to become when being away from them for a small while. The combination of hot and cold sifted through ventilation systems, perspiring people, ice being treated, a slight funk of the locker rooms… all of those scents coming together as the warm puff escaped the opening in the door and caressed his face. It was almost like a scorned lover, that smell, trying its best to convince him of things being right, so right. He just had to give her a second chance, she really wanted to make it better. And she could, if he allowed her to.

Walking into the main hall of the Yubileyny sports complex, Victor didn't offer her the chance to take his finger and then his hand. He felt it, though, that part of him that was connected to that place. It was telling him to stop hiding, telling him to just burst out of that bubble and just  _take it._  In the Yubileyny, he was a king, a living legend, and everyone else were commoners, royal subjects. It was really his castle, his dominion, and had been for so long. It had never been easy to let the mannerisms, the regalia, just remain when walking into that place.

Victor walked past the main hall and headed towards the locker rooms, his body acting on nothing but muscle memory. The amount of steps never changed, neither had the way he grabbed the handle to open the door, or the strides taken before he would walk past the locker that had always been his.

He glanced at it, the locker, and saw that his old combination lock was still there. It was a little surprising to him to see that it was still intact. He figured that Yakov would have disposed of it in a manner only he could, emptied the locker and kept the things inside until they would get the opportunity to allow them to change hands. As far as Victor remembered it, he didn't have that much inside but memories have tendency to morph and play games with the mind. He had barely opened it since it all started, just a few times.

So he just passed it on his way out to the rink, not giving it a second thought once he reached for the door that separated the locker rooms from the ice.

It was almost silent in there, except for the zamboni that snaked its way across the ice. Victor squinted a little to see who was maneuvering the humming thing, but had to consider himself defeated for it was heading away from him on the opposite side.

After a few more steps, he found a seat a few rows away from the boards and sat down. He just listened to the low sound from across the ice, smelled the cool air of the rink. Sitting down like that, seeing the few rays of light come through the windows, made him remember what Yakov had said a few times during their practises in the morning right after ice maintenance when he'd just started out skating, and maybe more often as he had gotten older.

" _Coming here is like going to church."_

Victor had never understood that likeness for the rink was a place of work and not reverence. But in that very moment, with the zamboni acting as the pious choir and the sun reflecting off the newly tended ice, any skater's divine mother and father, he could somehow understand what that old man had been talking about.

Something clicked inside Victor then. Maybe it was the bubble losing its protective barrier, becoming something that resembled a deflating balloon more than anything else, but nevertheless, it brought tears to his eyes.

"The rink is closed for maintenance," he heard a voice call out from beneath him, gruff and deep.

Victor pretended to cough by turning his head away, but he was in fact wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his coat instead.

"You're always so crabby, Boris," he called back as loud as he dared without cracking his voice. "Old dogs can't learn new tricks!"

The laugh from the old man who had made the zamboni come to a complete stop echoed inside the rink.

"Victor! It's been a while! What are you doing up there?"

"Enjoying the view," Victor replied, and that wasn't at all a lie.

"Hah," the old man laughed as he adjusted himself in the seat, "when you were young, you were always hurrying to be the first on the ice once I was done with it. Do you remember?"

"How can forget? You used to chase me with that thing!"

The man pulled off his cap, fake fur lining the ear muff-part of it as always, and slapped it against his knee. Then, he leaned back and bobbed up and down, barely in control of himself due to the bursts of laughter.

Victor didn't laugh, he just closed his eyes and felt more and more naked. Raw, as it were.

"Now, then?" The voice made Victor jump a little where he sat.

He opened his eyes and called back, "What?"

"For old time's sake?" The zamboni huffed a little as it was coaxed into starting again. "The kids will come here in half an hour, maybe."

"No," Victor swallowed, feeling that thump inside his chest again, "haven't you heard? I've retired. I don't… don't skate anymore. Or is your memory that bad?"

"Since when have you ever kept your word?" The zamboni crept forward, almost in slow motion before it did as much as a lurch as it could ever do, heading past the the rows of seats. "It's yours if you want it, Victor!"

Victor watched Boris do a finishing lap with the zamboni before he drove off, smoothing out the outer rim of the rink. Then, the rink became still and completely silent, apart from a whimpering sniff as Victor collected himself.

He had his head bent down in case anyone would see him, with his shoulders tense and his eyes tearing up, not that he thought anyone actually would. If it was Boris driving the zamboni during maintenance hours, people knew better than to disturb him, vacating the rink without as much as a thought about sneaking in ahead of time.

_Fuck. I really shouldn't have come here,_  Victor thought to himself as he stood up and walked back from whence he came. But, and maybe because of the walls of that bubble were getting really thin now, Victor never managed to exit the locker rooms. He got stuck in front of his locker, the one with the combination lock with its pink metallic surface and faded stickers still on it, and flipped the four small digit wheels until it opened.

A puffer vest, a sports bag, an empty water bottle, a pair or gloves. A spare long sleeved t-shirt, a pair of gray joggers. A notebook with tattered pages, a container of his favorite lip balm which he opened to see how much was left, some body wash made by the same brand as the lip balm and—

Victor prepared himself to close the door upon seeing the skates, not the ones with the gold blades for they were put away at home, but the ones that used to be his primary pair until he had decided to treat himself to the gold ones. He stood frozen like that for a moment of eternity, just looking at them when he felt it inside.

The regalia. Calling for him.

 

**~**~**

 

Victor felt around in his coat pocket for his earbuds, them being almost devoured by the satin lining inside, hiding somewhere underneath his wallet. He took them out and popped them in his ears after connecting them to his phone. With a small sigh, he closed the locker door.

Then, he walked back. Back to the rink through that door, feeling the smell of treated ice, of the cold. The smell of blood, sweat and tears. The smell of frustrations and jubilations, created by hours upon hours of trying things, falling and getting back up again.

The sound of the skate guards rattling against the floor was familiar. The feel of the skates on and around his feet, the creases in the boots pressing against the skin of his ankles, were too. The look of the rink, the smell of it, the low buzzing sound of the ventilation, all of it was familiar but still, everything felt so vastly, utterly different.

He sat himself down on the edge of the boards and removed his skate guards before throwing his legs over to the other side. But there, Victor stopped. He ended up holding on a little with his hands, kept himself sitting there on the edge. It wasn't a tall drop down onto the ice, of course, but it might just as well have been. A freefall, a headfirst tumble into something bottomless, something that that would bear consequences just as soon as the sudden impact would happen.

Victor realised that he was afraid, but of what, he wasn't sure. There was a knot in his stomach, his hands felt clammy for some reason, his pulse was palpable on the side of his neck.  _It's just skating_ , he told himself with an annoying, slightly harsh, tone inside his head.  _Get on the ice._

But he couldn't.

He was stuck there on the ledge, like a baby bird hesitating leaving the safety of its nest, desperately looking for something that could milden the fall. Something that could make the transition easier.

Yes, that was really how it was. A transition, although Victor himself didn't fully understand what that meant. All he felt was the tension inside, the building anticipation of what his mind and body already had decided, days prior. His entire being yearning for the release that something inside him still fought.

But then, he put his phone back inside the pocket of his joggers instead of holding on to it with a cramping palm. He breathed in and held it in, trying to remember who he was. Who he had become. Who he wanted to be. And with that thought in his head, he took the leap of faith, there in the house of god.

The first cut skates make on fresh ice is worth nothing less than a hallelujah. It has always been that way, it's one of those constants, one of those rules a skater blindly abides to. But to Victor, it was a damnation, for even though he took it slow, tested his faith by dipping nothing more than a toe, he was back. Back into the role of the skater, the showman, the living legend.

He did a few laps to get warm, skated without doing anything extra. Though inside, there was a fire, one that wanted to burn away the last remnants of doubt. One that called for him, beckoned him, told him to just let go. Succumb to the faith, its teachings. Listen to the gospel.

Then, he gave in but only by so much. He started making lines through sweeping movements, extending his arms, arching his back. Spinning a little to get the feel of the reverence again. Doing some crossovers to gain speed, to match that exalted whispers inside. His confidence grew as he became a believer again, a preacher of the word, and he made a stop to catch his breath. It didn't come as easy anymore, he realised, but easier since the last time he stood on a pair of skates, celebrating Yuuri's birthday in Hasetsu.

Standing there with his chest heaving, the epiphany came. Maybe, Victor needed that, to feel the bubble burst and the outside envelop him, no, constrict him. Maybe, he really needed that to understand what he had done that morning. And, more importantly, why.

Needless to say, it created a discord in him. One he couldn't sort out for how is it possible to feel that you're drowning while ascending? A relief tainted by guilt and panic?

Victor tried to swallow in between his strained breaths, a reminder of what was occupying his lungs, and reached for his phone. This moment needed something else. Something more. Something not half-assed and hesitant. No, this moment needed something real, and for that, motion, emotion and music were to marry in order to make it so. Just one last time.

After opening his phone with a swipe, he flipped through the apps to find Spotify.

_I am Victor Nikiforov,_ he thought to himself as he scrolled through the list,  _the most decorated skater in the history of Russia._

He opened the app with a press of his thumb.

_I am thirty years old and I won't see my thirty-first birthday. But… that's okay._

He went into his library and found the playlist marked as 'favorites', opening it with a shivering press to the screen.

_The living legend will die today. For I have made_ my  _choice._

He pressed the shuffle button and put his phone back in the pocket of his joggers, feeling the weight of it pull a little against the drawstring that was knotted tight around his waist.

_He will die so that I can_ live _, embracing what_  I  _have left._

"This is my life," he said out loud, "I'll fucking make it mine."

When the [beat reached his ears](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9uSyICrtow), accompanied by the repeated 'oh-oh-oh', he laughed a one syllable kind of laugh whilst lifting his arms over is head, extending his hands and fingers into a graceful pose. What were the odds for that to be his swan song, his last skate?

Imagine, life surprising him at a time like this. How months of anger, worry, sadness, hopelessness, preparation and despair somehow converged into this. This decision, this moment, this farewell to all that was him, this part of him he wasn't quite sure what it would leave behind once it was gone. This fire inside, combusting due to the sounds in his ears, burning him, scorching him, cleansing him.

Yes, he could clearly see it now. A skating rink really is a place of worship, a place to atone, to seek comfort and forgiveness. And Victor was ready for that. All of it.

_They will all understand._

Victor lowered his hands, put them around his head before he extended them anew with an aggressive whip of his elbows in front of him. The small momentum the movement created made him go backwards and he picked up on that, doing crossovers to pick up more speed.

 

_I've been up in the air_

_Out of my head_

_Stuck in a moment of emotion I've destroyed_

_Is this the end I feel?_

_Up in the air_

_Fucked up on life_

_All of the laws I've broken, loves that I've sacrificed_

_Is this the end?_

 

A step sequence, one where he twisted and turned his body, extended arms and legs in a chaotic flurry only to end up on his knees, gliding. Feeling the ice and the cold against him, tearing into his skin through the fabric of his joggers.

 

_I wrap my hands around your neck so tight with love, love_

 

Leaning back, he could almost feel the ice tug at his beanie at the back of his head, Victor put his hands around his neck and pressed, allowed his fingers to dig into his skin. Almost cancelling out the pain he felt from his knees. He could have kept doing that, but instead, he reached out. Extended his arms as if he was presenting someone with an offer.

 

_A thousand times I tempted fate_

Left hand.

_A thousand times I played this game_

Right hand.

_A thousand times that I have said today, today, today_

 

Clasping them together, and through the strength of his legs and core, Victor rolled up on his feet again and took off with the help of his picks. Barely registering how they dug into the ice, how they created cuts and scars onto a surface that was perfectly smooth and untouched.

He needed to go faster. He needed to feel it, what was building inside with every 'oh-oh-oh'.

 

_I've been up in the air_

_Lost in the night_

_I wouldn't trade an eye for your lies, your lust for my life_

 

Victor jumped into a death drop sit spin, not bothering about the pathetic height to it. He was consumed by the flames within, the cries of the one tied to the pyre to even notice the lack of strength behind the jump. He just wanted to fan that flame. He needed it hotter, more ravenous.

Arm variations. They were creating stories that fit what was pounding against his eardrums, pounding in his chest. Nights, lies, lives. So many, too many to count.

He raised himself up into an scratch spin that he closed as quickly as he could to gain momentum, to add just a few more rotations before―

 

_Is this the end?_

 

―he stopped, whipped his head to the side to face those windows that seemed flooded by the sunlight.

 

_You were the love of my life, the darkness, the light_

_This is a portrait of a tortured you and I_

 

Putting power behind his movements, he took off along the side of the rink, the one with the windows. Hands and arms outstretched as he was relishing the cries of an audience, coming there just for him.

 

_Is this the, is this the, is this the end?_

 

He closed his open arms, allowed his hands to travel, up from his waist, his chest, crossing his arms in front of him.

 

_I wrap my hands around your neck so tight with love, love, love_

 

He continued to skate like that, allowing his hands to tear at his clothes, to reach his neck again. Doing a step sequence whilst his hands kept on moving, almost by their own accord. It was as if they wouldn't want to stop, like they wanted to bring a definite end with them.

 

_A thousand times I've tempted fate_

_A thousand times I've played this game_

_A thousand times that I have said today, today, today_

_A thousand times I've tempted fate_

_A thousand times I've played this game_

_A thousand times that I have said today, today, today_

 

The music slowed down, heavy drums dictating a rhythm he automatically followed, his arms and hands giving up on their hold around his neck. It became somewhat solemn then, the change of pace, the long extended lines, the moves that reminded him of ballet, hours by the barre.

 

_I've been up in the air_

_Is this the end I feel?_

_Up in the air_

_Chasing a dream so real_

 

Maybe it was divine intervention, him picking up speed despite the calm, despite the dictating beat. Maybe, it really was something else entering him, guiding him, telling him to do, do, do because there wouldn't be a second chance.

 

_I've been up in the air_

_Is this the end I feel_

_Up in the air_

 

He knew this part of the song too well, where it would be momentarily quiet. It would be just enough, enough for him to prove to himself that it was time, that his decision was right, that his future choices would be too. So he did a mohawk turn, and launched himself in the air.

 

_Chasing a dream_

_Chasing a dream_

 

During that moment, those few seconds of silence in his ears, those few seconds of travelling through the air, Victor knew. He had made it, succeeded, conquered. And he wasn't even thinking about that jump, that stupid quad flip that was his trademark. It couldn't possibly matter less, it was just for him to prove his notion.

The landing wasn't graceful, his knee buckling and almost giving, but inside him, that couldn't even start to matter. Inside, a tsunami of endorphins, of emotions, of thoughts understanding what he had done flooded him, pulled him down with force only to sweep him away in its current. It was a fantastic feeling, one that he gave into wholeheartedly, wishing that he would be devoured by that internal sea.

_Take no more_

_Take no more_

_Take no more_

_I'll take no more_

 

It became raw after that, a mayhem of unrefined movements. Something Yakov would, and himself too for that matter, hate to see another skater do. It was the tsunami breaking the last remnants of resistance, seeping through his skin, his pores. Taking him over, filling him up to the brim before it gushed out. Pushing him with sheer power, asking him to give, give, give.

 

_A thousand times I've tempted fate_

_A thousand times I've played this game_

_A thousand times that I have said today, today, today_

 

_Stay in motion._

_Today_

_Don't slow down._

_Today_

_See this through._

_Today_

_Give all you've got._

_Today_

_One last time._

_Today_

_Allow yourself to feel._

_Today_

_Let it go._

_Today_

_Let_ him  _go._

 

It felt like a switch had been flipped inside, making Victor sink down to his knees. He felt lightheaded, slightly sick and trembling. He felt himself grow more weak, his muscles crying, his lungs begging him for mercy, so he pooled down on the ice, onto his back.

_Is this what it means to believe in god_ , he thought to himself as he tried to breathe, his stomach rapidly heaving as he felt the exhaustion catch up to him now that he allowed it to.  _Is this what it means to feel him? Honourable Sergius, blessed Matrona, holy Xenia, I understand you now._

 

_Today_

_I'll wrap my hands around your neck_

_I'll wrap my hands around your neck with love, love_

 

_I don't believe you, but I understand,_  Victor managed to think before tension ebbed away, leaving him with another flood bursting through. One that felt painful, weakening, humiliating as he lay there on the ice.

Victor cried, screamed, lamented. It was a sound he thought he could never produce, a primal noise that ripped through him and echoed in the otherwise silent skating rink. Once he felt it leave him, become one with the structure and its rows of seats, its windows, its ice, its air, almost handed over to the building in confidence, he covered his face with both of his hands.

He never heard the entirety of the song that took over after the trembling moment of silence, for he allowed himself to weep. Empty himself in a way that wasn't too different from what he had done, just moments before. He managed to hear the final lines of it though, and it soothed him. Made him follow its imploration as he dried his eyes, got to his feet, exited the rink, took off his skates and put them, and the other contents of his locker except for the lip balm, neatly inside the duffel bag. He left the bag there, inside the locker room on one of the benches, and threw away the lock in the waste bin on his way out.

He never heard the oohs and aahs of the small group of children waiting in the main hall of the sport centre as he passed them, nor did he see them.

As he walked down the stairs on wobbly legs with muscles aching, leaving the Yubileyny, he had to stop for a moment, stop and look back. It hit him, watching the place in the sunlight that was coming and going, that he didn't know what to call it now.

It had been his home, his place for worship, his distraction. His friend, his nurturing mother and demanding father. His vice, his drug, his addiction. Now, it was something else, something he felt he had to spend some time thinking about.

Walking down the last few steps before heading home, he decided that he had been unfair. Sure, the Yubileyny had been a partner in crime, but in truth, the fault was probably his and his alone. Looking at it logically, Victor could see that his life as a skater had given him things too, not just taken them from him. If not for the work taken place there, he would never been bestowed life and love. And now, he decided to head home to embrace it.

Victor started to hum a little to himself as the rink grew smaller and smaller in the distance, until he broke out into a very low, muted mumble. Somehow, it felt better to hear himself say it out loud. Somehow, he hoped it was true.

 

_You are free there, song,_

_Fly home_

 

* * *

Maybe it was a childish thing to do, vacating the flat for hours like he did, but Yuuri felt smothered within those four walls.

It wasn't an unproblematic feeling to have, for he had always considered what he and Victor had created together, the mutual home where the both of them were free to speak their minds and act without worry, a sanctuary. The need to get away, clear his head and hope that the air inside the flat would have been successfully cleansed or at least exchanged by the time he got back, had grown from being nothing but a thought in passing to a raging demand that made him act without a second thought.

Now, Yuuri found himself standing on the bottom floor after satisfying that demand, waiting for the lift up to the floor where that tainted home was. He couldn't help himself to get caught up in that, thinking about what it would be like to get back up there. If the walls still oozed of it. If he would get affected upon stepping inside.

Standing there, waiting with a churning sensation grating inside his stomach, his thoughts branched out and made him think about how he had spent his day. Every moment from throwing that omelette away to walking through the city centre, biting his cheek to prevent himself from breaking out into loud sobs. From locking himself inside the bathroom of a coffee shop when it overwhelmed him to actually messaging Yurio, who in turn snarkily reminded him that he was on his way to Worlds in Prague. From from never letting go of his phone during the entire time he was out in the hopes of Victor calling to finally putting it back into his pocket once he entered his building when he realised that he himself wouldn't make a call either.

He wondered why that was. Why the fear, no, the aversion to actually calling his husband, checking up on him, making sure that he was doing okay or at least, a bit better than himself, actually came to be.

Yuuri got a small moment of reprieve when the lift dinged, but it was only momentary. As soon as he had pushed the button to his floor and the lift started to move, the thoughts caught up to him. Almost like they scrambled not to be left alone on the bottom floor, relaxing once they found him and made him continue, trying to find reasons why he himself hadn't even tried calling Victor.

He knew it was because Victor had hurt him. By saying what he had, by leaving. By—

_Oh, Victor, you_ idiot!  _You asshole!_

—being aggravated by something that was meant to be a small step towards daring more, meeting him more. It was an act of caring and compassion by putting that glass there, but still, Victor had seen it as something that suited his prerogative and not for what it really was.

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair, feeling his worry melting, morphing, turning into something else. Making him flare up inside, making him feel unjustly treated. Making him… angry?

It was with assertive steps he exited the lift, walked towards their shared door to their shared home. Putting the key inside the lock, something flickered inside.

_What if Victor's home?_

Yuuri scoffed at himself and turned the key. He decided that if Victor was indeed home, he… he would… he most certainly would… Yeah, he would tell Victor. Tell Victor what his stupid outburst had done to him, how Victor's dramatic exit ruined his day. How Victor just… pushed him away. Acted unfairly.

His hand sought out the door handle and he pushed it down, trying to put some of that anger behind his actions. If Victor indeed was there, he sure as hell wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing a wrung out cloth walk through the door. He would see something else, something more confident and unaffected. Something, no,  _someone_  who had feelings too.

The door opened in the way Yuuri had hoped for it to do, fluidly and unwavering. He closed it with a little more force than necessary, but there was a point being made in the sound created.

A small glance at the coat rack, one that was followed by one aimed at the floor, told him that Victor was indeed home. His coat hung where it usually did, on that hanger to the left, and his shoes were placed next to each other underneath. It suddenly felt satisfying that the door had been closed the way it did.

Yuuri stood still with his shoes on, with his outerwear still zipped up. Listening to the silence. Listening to the noise that grew inside. Listening to his body reacting to that invisible energy that made the air shiver, threatening to pull the anger out of him and replace it with what he had left behind, what was festering within those four walls.

_So that's how he wants it today. Silent treatment, huh? Good. Perfect,_  he thought to himself, if only to keep that momentum, fuel the anger that was aimed towards Victor.

After pulling down on the zipper of his jacket and kicking off his shoes, Yuuri started to walk. He felt his line of vision narrow, almost bestowing an uncanny focus upon him, the further in he got. Every footstep acting as a catalyst. He passed the kitchen, passed the living room and the sofa and readied himself. Once he would get to the bedroom, there wouldn't be any way of turning back.

He walked past the bathroom, feeling his heart beat hard and fast inside, almost making him feel out of breath. But, when he were a few resolute steps away from reaching the bedroom he stopped. Turned around. Walked back. Looked into the bathroom. And felt that anger go out like a flame, like there suddenly was no air left to sustain it with.

It was a strange sight, one that continuously burned his retinas. A sight he, despite it being nothing less than real, couldn't understand or take in.

Victor was on the floor.

Yuuri felt numb. Deprived of anything that would make him process what he was seeing.

Yes, Victor was on the floor, with his hands searching for something to grasp by the way they just wouldn't settle. His body, it… it convulsed. It seemed like it wanted to turn itself inside out, the way his back arched and his stomach imploded in an uneven rhythm, until it did. It did, when Victor managed to heave himself up and empty himself into the toilet.

The sounds that followed made Yuuri's hand almost reach for the handle of the door. His initial reaction was to close that door, to keep everything contained. To prevent it from reaching places it shouldn't, to prevent that sound from becoming one with the rest of the flat. But instead of reaching for the handle, the hand made a journey, almost in slow motion, until it covered his mouth.

The sounds were a cacophony of Victor's body constricting around itself, of liquid colliding with liquid, of desperate and rapid exhales and frail whimpers in between. Of a purging gurgle that just couldn't be human.

It felt like a blessing, how Victor's body finally stilled after that tormentingly endless display. It stilled, with him becoming lax. With him just pooling onto the floor, breathing slowly with his eyes closed. Somehow, that image didn't fit that bathroom with its white tiled walls and clean surfaces. It didn't fit the sight of two toothbrushes standing together in one glass, of two bathrobes hanging side by side. It didn't fit the smell of sandalwood and citrus, after shave and fabric softener. It didn't fit, because this wasn't his life with Victor. This wasn't Victor, it was his antithesis seeing him like that.

It was real, though. Yuuri understood that when his body started to quake, come undone there in the doorway, his body reacting to what his mind despite it all didn't want to see. What it couldn't take in or was prepared to understand.

He saw Victor's mouth move. It was strange, the way it made the same movements again and again. It was strange for despite those movements, it wasn't making any sounds. But, all of a sudden, and maybe that was even harder to understand, it did.

Yuuri wasn't sure what made it so. What made that almost inaudible voice pierce through. Maybe, it was due to seeing Victor's eyes, partly veiled by eyelids and lashes, search for his and find them. The way they demanded his attention and never let his go. Maybe, it was because the shivering inside him eventually stopped, the initial shock ebbing away and allowed the outside to claw its way in and find places to seep into. Maybe, the whole thing, that week, those days, that morning, that specific moment, was just… inevitable, due to the universe converging and pushing them to that point in time. Nevertheless, the sound took him by surprise. The meaning of the words did too.

"Don't look at me."

Yuuri's hand left his mouth and fell down against his side. His mind immediately searching for meanings, both hidden and obvious, in what Victor had just uttered. How to not look at him, the one who always were so perfect in his eyes, but now, just a flicker? A shadow?

"You don't get to do this," Victor's voice sounded as he heaved himself up, leaning a little against the toilet. "Close the door."

There it was. That thick and oily energy that had gotten inside him that morning. That energy he had been running away from. That energy he feared for it was too overpowering, too debilitating, to hopeless, leaving Yuuri with no idea on how to approach it, if he ought to battle it or diffuse it. How to even start, no matter in what end. Hearing that, however, he wanted to do what Victor told him to. He really wanted to close that door, to walk away. To pretend that he didn't know what had happened inside that bathroom several days in a row.

His mind started to tell him to protect himself, sending demand upon demand to his arm and hand, insistently telling him to reach for the door handle. But Yuuri fought it, fought that basic flight reaction for something inside whispered to him to stand where he was. To just endure a little bit longer and that it was reasonable in some way to go against himself just this once, an argument he utterly failed to understand.

"Yes, this is what it looks like," Yuuri heard Victor say, now with a venomous tone in his voice, "this is what it's like to have cancer! Do you understand, huh, Yuuri? Do you understand?!"

Yes, he did understand. He understood it all too well. He understood what it was like to constantly worry, to fear each coming day. He understood what it meant to be forced into a life unwanted and unfair. He understood what it was like to never feel enough, to never be enough, to constantly try to become enough. He understood what it meant to wonder if every moment shared would be the last. He understood well enough what it was like to live with the knowledge that he, and it wasn't a matter of if by now, would be—

"Close the  _fucking_  door! Just  _fucking_ go!"

—left behind.

Victor's voice was becoming more shrill now, less commanding in Yuuri's ears and maybe more desperate in its tone.

"I told you, you don't get to do this, not now. It's too late! It's too late for you to stand there! I'm telling you to go!" Victor paused to spit into the toilet, a long and treacly string of saliva that just kept on stretching until it finally broke once Victor turned his head towards the doorway again. "Just a glass of water… you're so fucking selfish!"

The sharp inhale through Yuuri's nose became the immediate reaction to Victor's words, echoing inside that bathroom. And, god, how it hurt hearing that. Him, being selfish. Him, making stupid choices. Him, being disqualified and unwanted. Yuuri suddenly felt like he should be down on his knees too. He should gather up what he was bleeding, try to make it get back in and stay inside somehow.

"I know that you know," Victor continued, low this time, "that I'm worse this time. My body can't. It can't take it.  _I_ can't! They even lowered the concentration, but it's just… my body, it's…"

Then, Victor flared up again.

"I've been doing everything,  _everything_  for you! But you're selfish. Any decision I've been wanting to make, everything I've been wanting to talk to you about… 'Soon, Victor. Not now, Victor. You don't understand, Victor'. When is that?! I am worthy of doing what I want to, but I'm constantly dragged into carrying you, taking care of you! I can't do that anymore, Yuuri! Why can't you fucking understand that? You need… you need to say something, do something! Be-before it…"

Yuuri looked to the side. He found some spot by the shower, where the bath towels hung, to rest his eyes on. He knew that he couldn't handle Victor's tears, not directly, but looking away was just a desperate act to endure sharing a space with him, for he still heard him. He heard Victor cry, with the same desperation as a child. Just as loud, just as desperate, just as emptying. Just as raw.

"...b-but st-still you… yo-you say n-nothing… i-is this love to you?" Victor sobbed. "A-are th-things like this h-how you… how you want t-to remember me b-by?! Is th-this what you wa-want me to leave be-behind?!"

In the corner of his eye, despite still looking at those towels, following their tartan pattern back and forth, Yuuri saw Victor move. It was a small motion, one that made him break away and look directly at Victor.

"Pl-please say something," Victor whined, the vowels each creating an individual cry, filling up the room. Each making him so small, so far from what he once was.

Yuuri's eyes started to sting, and within the following second, they overflowed. The sight of Victor balled up on his hands and knees, how he had become a heap of something unrecognisable, something that was  _begging him_ …

_Don't make Victor live an empty life. Make sure he's loved._

Closing the distance between Victor and himself, Yuuri heard his mother's words. Although they were hers, he remembered them well, it wasn't her voice that uttered them within him. It was him, his voice, him internalising them, him acting on them. Him, making them a truth for himself, something he wanted to abide to. So, when Yuuri reached Victor still balled up by his feet, he started by flushing the toilet, seeing what had been inside Victor being washed away. Leaving behind a surface that looked so pristine, so clean. Like nothing of the sort had happened in the first place.

Keeping the cry that had passed his throat inside his mouth, Yuuri got down on his knees. He took off his glasses, leaving them on the floor somewhere to the side.

_What do I do when he's afraid?_

" _V-Vitya_ , I…" he said, just a few fingertips touching Victor's arm. Victor was cold but sweaty to the touch, still distraught. Still shaking underneath that featherlight touch. Doing all the things he wanted to do himself.

"I ju-just can't do it anym-more, Yuuri."

With a sigh, despite clenching his teeth, Yuuri wrapped himself around Victor's back. It felt like embracing a wounded animal, an animal caught up between pain and distress, an animal that wanted to flee but couldn't. An animal that needed comfort despite the blatant fact that no act could ever be enough. An animal that felt out of reach, despite being there. An animal that had—

"I-I won't go..."

—given up.

_Or when he doesn't want to anymore?_

And, although Victor's quaking infected him, although Victor's nausea took over the pit of his stomach, although Victor's words brought with them thoughts of what he'd feared the most, Yuuri managed to take a deep breath. He managed to steel himself, intent on following his new decree.

"I-it's okay. Victor, it's okay," he heard himself say whilst his lips met with Victor's sweat-soaked back, delivering kisses he wasn't sure Victor would even feel through his shirt. "You… you do-don't have to anymore."

Yuuri felt Victor shift underneath him, hearing Victor's deafening wail become muted as he dug his face into his stomach. Victor was curled up on his lap, arms around his waist and he held on.

As he started to stroke Victor's head, the side of his neck, what he could touch of his face, the grip around him narrowed. Yes, it was a despair behind that grasp, the way the arms tightened, the way the hands and fingers gripped and tore into him, held on like nothing but life itself depended on it.

And maybe, it did.


End file.
